


Temporal Quandary

by jaylie12



Series: Catching Time [13]
Category: Glee, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Staine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaylie12/pseuds/jaylie12
Summary: "Tell me it's not aliens again."  (Originally written in 2013.)
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Series: Catching Time [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615039
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is another drawn out action-y fic. I'm so sorry.

"Did you get all that?" Bruce asked, pen still held aloft and pointing at the screen filled with blueprints and equations. He looked at Steve and Blaine in turn.

"I have," Blaine started with a deep breath, hopping down from his perch on the table, "no idea what you're talking about." He smiled, half apologetically and half chagrined, and Bruce chuckled.

"You get a pass," Bruce said pointedly, "for now." His stern tone was tempered with a fond smile, and he turned to Steve. "And what about you?"

"I'm going to need you to go over it again, Doctor," Steve replied honestly. "Where does the energy go after it gets converted into current?"

"I should head out," Blaine said quietly to Steve as Bruce tapped at the screen to bring up a close-up of a portion of the schematics.

"Class?" Steve asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Hmm," Blaine confirmed, giving Steve a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you tonight at the bar?"

"I'll be there at 10 p.m. sharp."

"My very own groupie."

"What?"

"I'll explain later," Blaine said with a smile and a squeeze of Steve's arm. "See you later, Bruce," Blaine directed at the other man as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

Bruce smiled and nodded before launching back into his explanation. Steve's attention dutifully returned to the screen.

Blaine was just about to turn the corner of the hallway when he heard the lab's door sliding open again. Thinking Steve must have forgotten to tell him something, Blaine turned back. He stopped short when the door remained open after several seconds, but no one came out. A series of thuds startled him and he crouched on instinct. He hastened to the door and peeked around the frame, eyes wide as he watched an unconscious Bruce disappearing from his view, leaving only a barely-there shimmering of light where he was slumped on the floor. Blaine's eyes darted around the room, and he could just make out two shapes moving around the room, transparent but shimmering just like Bruce's body now was. Blurry and moving quickly, Blaine blinked fast to keep up with their movements and made out arms reaching down to Bruce and another almost-invisible body that must be Steve. Blaine heard quiet, low-pitched murmuring as Steve and Bruce were lifted and the shimmers of light moved toward the door.

Blaine jumped back, heart pounding as his mind raced. Forcing his body into motion, he raced down the hall and around the corner, only risking looking back when he heard the lab door slide shut. He watched the two masses of flickering light move down the hallway, away from him. It wasn't until they had opened another door that Blaine realized they had gone into the stairwell. Glancing behind him at the elevators, Blaine had no idea which way they were going so he could not risk taking the wrong way. Taking a deep breath, he ran back down the hallway and caught the door just before it latched shut. He slipped in, staying against the wall as the door fell back shut and clicked loudly in the isolated stairwell.

Ignoring his still racing heart, Blaine quietly stepped to the railing and looked down. He leaned a bit further, scanning the descending stairs as best he could. Seeing nothing, he looked up, craning his neck and pushing himself a little further over the railing. It took a few seconds, but he saw it--a flicker of light two, maybe three, flights up. He stepped back out of view and took another deep breath, trying to decide what to do. Not wanting to lose sight of whoever was up there, he gripped his bag and started up the stairs, careful to keep his footfalls quiet and fast.

The research labs were already high up in Stark Tower, and the roof was only seven floors up. Surely, they must be headed there. At every new floor, Blaine chanced a glance over the railing, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything. He did not linger too long in looking, trusting his instinct and continuing on his way when he did not catch sight of the shimmering light.

Blaine was only one flight of stairs from the roof when he heard a door burst open. He kept going, a shaft of light slicing through the artificially lit stairwell confirming his suspicions. He sped up, thanking his affinity for running as his preferred form of exercise.

The door, opened with such force as to pull it off its hinges, hung open to reveal the small landing that held a ladder up to the upper portion of the roof. Blaine traversed the small space and climbed the few steps, casting his eyes about as he scrambled up. No light shimmered, but the strong wind had Blaine looking up.

He stopped, crouched on the roof and breathing heavy as he took in the sky above him, shimmering in the same way the moving bodies had. He followed the edges as best he could, finding two hulking masses slowly moving up what looked to be some kind of rope hanging down to the roof. It looked to be moving up as well, and the edge looked to be a few feet up from the roof. Without any thought, Blaine launched himself toward the barely there line, jumping as it moved higher.

His fingers grasped around a thin, cool cord, as his body's momentum carried him past the line. He swung back easily, and hauled himself up the line until he could hook his feet around the bottom of it. He held on, muscles straining and fingers protesting, and looked around. The shimmering light was nearing, and the roof was shrinking. He could not make out the bodies above him against what must be a ship of some kind.

Before he could think what to do next, the line jerked and he clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. He was almost to the ship, but it was moving, and now the line was swaying dangerously high in the air. Blaine had to close his eyes tight against the panic, had to force himself not to look down when he opened them again. Which he had to do, he told himself as the seconds ticked by, so he could see what he was getting into.

The wind that had picked up in the moments the ship started moving, suddenly lessened and Blaine finally opened his eyes. He could see the inside of the ship now, dark metal floor and walls, and a large grinding pulley above him. Large gray crates lined the walls, and only the sounds of machinery reached his ears. Blaine let out a breath as the now visible line still clenched in his fingers came to a stop and the sky below him slipped away with a closing panel.

Blaine dropped to the floor, crouching with the landing. Despite no one else being in the room, he scanned his surroundings again and hastened over to a pile of crates. Hiding behind it, he pulled his phone from his bag and turned it on. Sighing with relief that he still had reception, he opened up his contacts. But not knowing how long it would last, Blaine typed a quick message and sent it before he could doubt himself. Then he slipped out from behind the crates and hurried to the door, large and imposing, which slid open on his approach. Peering around the edge, he scanned the corridor before venturing out. Careful to keep track of where he was going, and listening intently, he made his way looking for any signs of Bruce and Steve.

*

Pepper set down her tablet, picking up her vibrating phone. Her eyes went wide and she clicked the communication controls on the table before her.

"Jarvis, lock down Stark Tower. We have a security breach. And I need Tony and Fury now."

The alarms sounded immediately.

"Agent Fury is indisposed," Jarvis informed.

"I don't care. Patch into my phone and send him the last text I received."

Pepper's phone lit up with the connection just as the elevator doors slid open.

"Tell me it's not aliens again," Tony said, stepping off the elevator.

"I'm pretty sure it's aliens again."

Pepper grabbed her phone and strode over to meet him in the center of the room, showing him the message.

_Steve and Bruce taken. Invisible ship above ST. Snuck on with them._

"Jarvis, get me Banner and Rogers, now," Tony barked.

"I do not currently read Dr. Banner's or Captain Roger's life signs within or in the vicinity of Stark Tower."

"When did they leave?"

"Readings indicate they did not leave."

"Where did they go?"

"Readings indicate they disappeared from Dr. Banner's lab 34 minutes ago."

"Disappeared?"

"I have no explanation for that, sir," Jarvis replied, the normally staid voice sounding confused.

"What about Blaine?" Pepper spoke up.

"Mr. Anderson exited Stark Tower via the stairwell and roof."

"And where did he go after that?"

"He also disappeared."

"Show me what you have," Stark instructed. Images popped up on the table screen. Pepper and Tony looked on as Bruce and Steve fell to the lab floor unconscious and disappeared from the footage; Blaine raced down the hallway and climbed the stairs; the roof access door exploded open; and Blaine ran onto the roof, jumped, and reached for something before he too disappeared.

"Stark, this better be good," Fury's irritated voice came crackling over the comm.

"It's quite the opposite," Tony quipped wryly. With a flick of his finger on the table, he said, "Video coming up. We have a situation."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And in the meantime, he's up there on his own."

The corridor was thankfully empty as Blaine made his way along it. Breathing stilted and pulse still racing, he flinched at every sound--the thud of machinery, an echoing bang of metal. When the hallway split into two, Blaine slowed and leant against the left wall before leaning out and peering down both passageways.

He hesitated, unsure which way to go, when a loud roar echoed down the left hall. Scuffling and clanging followed, and shouts in the alien language mixed with angry bellowing. Footfalls broke through the sounds, coming from the other way, and Blaine's heart rate sped up as he scanned the paths to the right and behind him. He backed away, the steady thudding of aliens coming closer making his retreat clumsy and harried. He pressed himself against the right wall, holding his breath, just as several aliens came into view. Sporting spikes on their foreheads with scraggly dark hair and a tail thicker than Blaine's thigh, their imposing height and size near twice Blaine's size, the armored aliens carried staff-like weapons.

*

"Long-range sensors aren't picking anything up," Fury said, his annoyance clear through the comm. "Any luck down there?"

"Nada," Tony said, typing in a series of commands onto the table screen and watching the video footage of Bruce's lab replay, the aliens no more visible for all Tony's efforts save the shimmer visible to the naked eye.

Pepper worked hunched over her tablet at the corner of the table.

"Nothing else is missing and everyone's accounted for," she said, lifting her head. "Jarvis, shut off the lockdown." The flashing light above the elevator turned off and, in the distance, Jarvis' voice informed the occupants of Stark Tower of the lockdown termination.

"I'm broadcasting on all frequencies to see if Thor's in the neighborhood."

Tony muttered incomprehensibly, cleared the screen, and pulled up another set of notations.

"We lost Blaine's cell phone signal five minutes after his message came through," Pepper noted. "I'm sending up the coordinates, and the possible trajectory. Should at least narrow the location down."

"We're meeting Agents Romanoff and Barton in 15 minutes. We should be to you in under an hour."

"And in the meantime, he's up there on his own," Pepper worried quietly, meeting Tony's gaze.

*

The aliens stayed on course toward the cacophony, not one turning, or even looking, down the hall Blaine was in. Blaine stayed against the wall though, not daring to move for fear more aliens would appear. The sounds dimmed, leaving Blaine's heart pounding in his ears and his fingers numbing with how tightly they clenched against the cool metal wall.

Several moments later, he took a shaky, shallow breath. The noises lessened further and Blaine slowly pushed away from the wall, flexing his fingers. He took another stilted breath and resettled his bag across his chest, trying to calm his heart and push down the panic.

A roaring cry, all pain and anger, startled Blaine back to the wall. Another anguished roar had Blaine moving, barely bothering to look around as he took off down the left corridor. Hoping the echoing clamor of footsteps led him the correct way, he took a right when he came upon another juncture and continued down the long hall until he reached the next intersection.

Blaine pulled back as soon as he saw them--the aliens who had passed him now pointing their staffs at the Hulk, slumped under the pull of cords lashed around his waist and arms, but still taller than everyone surrounding him. A couple of the aliens lay crumpled on the floor, others holding onto the cords. Several gashes littered the Hulk's arms and legs, but he still swung at the aliens, knocking a couple down before two shot him. With a pained roar, the Hulk fell to his knees.

Blaine gasped, slapping his hand over his mouth as soon as it was out and crouching just behind the corner. But it was too late, the Hulk, stumbling upright and pulling his arms back for another assault, spotted him. His eyes widened in recognition. The moment's hesitation was enough--the aliens slung more cords around his shoulders and legs, tightening them so quickly and securely that the Hulk cried out once more in pain before tipping back and falling with a thunderous crash.

An alien, dressed in a tan pair of pants and shirt that resembled hospital scrubs, hurried around the Hulk, stabbed a large needle into his arm, and quickly emptied the contents of the syringe. The Hulk bellowed unhappily, pulling at the restraints and earning another blast to his shoulder from an alien weapon. Another anguished cry and the alien produced another syringe, using it in the Hulk's leg this time. His cry was quieter and even more pained, and when the Hulk's head lulled to the side, he caught Blaine's eye before his eyes slid shut and his body fully slumped to the floor.

Blaine looked on helplessly as the aliens dragged the now limp body of the Hulk down the hallway by the restraints, the aliens bringing up the rear holding their weapons lowered but still ready. Their progress was slow, and it wasn't until they rounded the corner at the far end of the hallway and almost disappeared from view that Blaine forced himself out of his crouch to follow them.

He caught up quickly, careful to stay hidden until they again turned down another corridor. The alien dressed in scrubs stopped in front of a door, pressed a series of buttons on a panel that lit up, and entered the door when it slid open. The others followed, maneuvering the Hulk through the doorway. Before the door closed behind them, Blaine raced up and halted in front of the panel--breath held as he watched the light flicker out from behind unfamiliar symbols.

*

Blaine ducked back behind the corner of the hallway, hoping no one else would appear while he waited for the aliens to leave the room, if they even left. He chanced pulling out his cell to take a picture of the hallway and make note of the path he had taken.

The wait did not last long, and soon Blaine was ducking further back down the hallway as the armored aliens appeared and moved back toward him. Safely hidden at the previous juncture, the aliens appeared but turned the opposite way.

With a huff of relief, Blaine moved back so he could see the door to the room again. Just then, it reopened and the alien in scrubs left, preoccupied with a tablet of some kind in his hand and heading down the hallway away from him.

Blaine waited until the alien turned down another corridor, waited as he took two deep breaths in the silence, before he cautiously moved to the door. Recalling the five lit symbols, he pressed them sequentially. When the door did not move, Blaine tried pressing the buttons in another order. Trying a new sequence each time the door did not respond and flicking his gaze up and down the hall nervously, it took Blaine a dozen tries before he got the correct one.

The door slid open and Blaine scanned the room, devoid of any aliens moving around, before entering. He looked back as the door slid shut. When he turned back, he took his time noting the contents of the room.

Machines and foreign equipment filled the room, some of them humming and buzzing mechanically. Others displayed scrolling alien symbols and charts. But what pulled Blaine’s attention was the bed in the center of the room. And who lay on it--Bruce, his body in various states of reverting from the Hulk to his human form and, though his eyes remained closed, his face was pinched as if in pain. Restraints held him down to the examination table as large tubes trailed into his arms and leg. As Blaine approached, he saw Steve on another bed behind Bruce.

"Steve," Blaine whispered as he hurried over, breath hitching and eyes frantically searching for signs of life. Large bands strapped Steve to the bed, and intimidating tubes filled with clear, yellow, and blue fluids ran up both of Steve’s arms and into the crook of his elbows. Another large tube hung from Steve's thigh, dark red liquid dripping through it to an oscillating machine, churning and humming, and sending a bright red fluid into another tube that joined the ones ending in Steve's arms.

Steve's face was pale and thinner, shadows of bruises marring his smooth skin. Blaine guessed the ragged gash across his temple was the initial blow back at Stark Tower. The button up Steve had been wearing earlier was gone, leaving him in only his khakis. His arms and chest were similarly bruised, and rashes were blooming at the multiple injections sites. Blaine's hand hovered over Steve’s too still body, afraid to touch, but the slow and shallow rise and fall of Steve’s chest elicited a sigh and steadied him.

“Steve?” Blaine prodded, leaning close and resting his hand lightly on Steve’s chest. When his fingers encountered coolness rather than Steve’s typical warmth, Blaine withdrew his hand, the panic returning.

"Steve?” Blaine repeated, his voice tremulous. He pressed his palm to Steve’s cheek, encountering the same lack of warmth. Blaine looked around helplessly, and at Bruce's unconscious body now fully returned, his breathing just as shallow and the rest of his body as unmoving as Steve's.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Something's wrong."

"Got it," Tony said, slapping the table triumphantly. "Jarvis, we got it, right?"

"Indeed, sir."

"What did we get?" Pepper asked, coming up beside him.

"Jarvis?" Tony prompted.

The screen once again filled with the video footage from the lab. This time, the shimmers of light solidified, the outline clearer and bodies now distinguishable.

"Are they--," Pepper trailed off as she watched the aliens knock Steve and Bruce unconscious with menacing looking weapons. "They must be at least eight feet tall," Pepper noted as the aliens hauled Steve and Bruce onto their backs, "and they look reptilian."

"Why can't aliens ever look good?" Tony joked wryly.

"Well, we can't all look as good as you," Pepper retorted, eyes still on the footage.

"True," Tony agreed. When he looked at Pepper's unimpressed expression, he added, "Or you."

"Better," she said before turning her attention back to the screen. "What kind of weapon do you think that is?"

"Now that we can see them, Jarvis should be able to analyze it. And the ship."

"Already in progress," Jarvis spoke up.

"Thank you, Jarvis," Pepper said.

"We're on approach," Fury's voice came over the comm.

"We'll meet you on the roof," Tony said, already heading toward the elevator. Pepper followed.

*

Blaine took a couple deep, calming breaths, and leaned over Steve's prone body. He pressed his lips to Steve's cheek.

"I'm going to get you out of this," he breathed out, lips still ghosting against the cool flesh. Taking another deep breath in and then out, he repeated with more determination, "I am going to get us out of here."

Pushing off the table, Blaine tugged at the restraints strapped across Steve's torso and legs, and holding Steve's wrists to the bed. He crouched, looking under the table to where the bindings met the metal. Finding a mechanical system of flat pulleys and latches holding them tight, he searched for the release. Blaine stood, finding nothing underneath, and moved around the bed. At the foot, he found a small console with several buttons labeled with the alien symbols. Glancing nervously between them and Steve, he chanced pressing a button. The bindings tightened with a mechanical whirring and Blaine retracted his hand immediately. Steve showed no signs of awareness, even though the restraints around his wrists now looked to be cutting off his circulation. Blaine scanned the remaining buttons and with a trembling finger, he quickly pressed another.

Blaine let out the breath stuck in his lungs when the bands loosened minutely. He pressed the button again, holding it down as he watched the restraints slacken incrementally until the whirring stopped with a series of clicks. Blaine moved around the table again and tugged at the bindings, which gave way easily now that one side of them no longer held fast to the table. He slipped them over Steve's body and off the table, their buckles clanging and scraping on the floor as they swung loose.

The tubes looked more daunting, and Blaine had no idea where to start. The machine feeding the various colored fluids into Steve clicked and flashed with symbols. Blaine didn't dare press any buttons there, and opted to pull out the smaller of the tubes first. Working slowly, he held onto Steve's forearm as he pulled on the tube filled with blue liquid from the crook of Steve's elbow. It came out without difficulty, the tube giving way to a long thin needle. When it was completely removed, blood leaked at the injection site. Blaine dropped the tube and hastened over to the wall of cabinets, dragging the doors and drawers open. Scanning the contents quickly, he grabbed and tore open several foil packages until he found something he could use.

Back at Steve's side, Blaine set his supplies on the corner of the table and pressed some gauze to Steve's arm, watching it soak up the trickle of blood. He rid Steve's arm of the other tubes, pressing more gauze to the bruised and red skin.

"Blaine?" Steve asked, confusion evident despite the barely there voice. Blaine, so preoccupied with stemming the bleeding to notice sooner, whipped his head up. He could not help the small smile twitching his lips as Steve blinked slowly and looked at him blearily.

"Hey," Blaine said thickly, swallowing his tears.

"What--," Steve trailed off, voice hoarse and a whisper.

"We're on a ship," Blaine explained. "Aliens."

Understanding crept into Steve's expression and brightened his eyes a bit. He swallowed and licked his dry lips before asking, "Are you hurt?"

Blaine shook his head quickly. He bent Steve's arm, making sure the gauze still covered the injections sites, and laid Steve's hand on his bare chest, soothing it with gentle strokes of his fingers.

"I'm fine," he reassured. He pressed a delicate kiss to Steve's lips. "Stay," he instructed gently when Steve started to move.

"Don't go," Steve said plaintively as Blaine moved down the bed, his tone and words giving Blaine pause.

"I'm right here," Blaine comforted, smoothing his palm along Steve's leg. He met Steve's eyes for another moment, the usual blue dulled to gray and scarcely visible under heavy eyelids. Blaine forced a smile to his lips, tamping down his panic. He turned his attention to the last tube, the largest, attached to Steve's thigh. He pushed the fabric of Steve's pants aside, already torn to gain access. Setting the remaining gauze nearby, Blaine pulled at the tube, careful to keep it straight. He cringed as the large bore needle appeared, and the blood surfaced before the needle was fully out. Blaine hastily applied the gauze and pressure, tossing the tube and needle to the floor.

When he chanced a glance back at Steve's face, his eyes were closed. Assured that he was still alive by the steady rise and fall of his chest, Blaine grabbed the rolled up gauze and proceeded to wrap it around Steve's thigh. He tied it off as best he could and with a tender press of a palm to Steve's cheek, Blaine stepped over to Bruce.

Blaine made quick work of removing the restraints, disconnecting all the tubes from Bruce, and bandaging the worst of his gashes. He had found a plethora of medical supplies in the cabinets, but not being able to read any of the symbols, he did not want to risk applying any to either Steve or Bruce's wounds. Instead, he tucked several more packages of gauze into his bag. He did manage to find tan scrubs similar to what the alien wore. At least Bruce would appreciate them, as his clothes hung around his body tattered from the Hulk.

*

"Blaine."

Blaine whirled around at his name, sighing when he saw Bruce sitting up on the bed, hands gripping the edge and arms supporting him. He hastened over, eyes darting worriedly to the bandages.

"How do you feel?" Blaine asked.

"Not too bad, considering." Bruce looked down at his arms and legs. "You do this?"

"Yeah," Blaine breathed out. "I had no idea what I was doing, but I figured it was better than being hooked up to alien medical equipment."

Bruce nodded his thanks before carefully slipping off the table. Blaine steadied him with a hand on his arm.

"Alien, huh?" Bruce asked lightly, wincing as he stood on his own.

"You don't remember?" Blaine questioned nervously. Bruce looked at him.

"I do," Bruce admitted grimly. "Just hoping I was remembering incorrectly." Bruce limped over to Steve and pressed two fingers to the inside of his wrist. Blaine looked on, holding the scrubs to his chest. Bruce assessed the bandage on Steve's thigh.

"I'm sorry," Blaine blurted out.

"What for?"

"I distracted you in the hallway."

Bruce shrugged and said, "The odds weren't good before that."

"Still," Blaine protested.

"Blaine, it's fine. Who would have woken us up if you weren't here?" Bruce eyed him until Blaine blinked, relented. He pointed at Blaine's chest. "Those for me?"

"Oh, yeah," Blaine replied quickly, proffering the scrubs. Bruce took them with an encouraging smile and stepped behind Blaine. Blaine kept his eyes on Steve's face, still sallow, while Bruce changed. He ran his hand absently up and down Steve's cool arm.

*

"We should get out of this room," Bruce recommended when he was done. Blaine looked up.

"He was up earlier," Blaine said, tipping his head toward Steve.

"Well, let's see if we can't get him up again," Bruce said, squeezing Blaine's shoulder supportively.

"Steve," Blaine prodded kindly, squeezing his unmarred arm. "Steve," Blaine tried again, this time squeezing the hand resting on his chest.

Steve stirred, his usual quick alertness still clearly absent. Blaine waited as Steve blinked, tipping his head up.

"We have to go," Blaine said. Steve looked around and spied Bruce. He blinked again, consciousness coming fully back to him.

"Still--," Steve trailed off, swallowing against his rough voice.

"Still on the alien ship," Blaine filled in with a rueful smile. "Bruce is okay," Blaine added when Steve's eyes swung back to Bruce.

"What happened?" Steve asked, struggling upright. Bruce and Blaine helped him to sitting, and he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Not sure," Bruce admitted. "Definitely sedated. Took quite a bit of blood too."

"Why did they only take the three of us?" Steve mused as he hopped carefully off the table. Blaine offered a steadying hand to his forearm and Bruce braced his back with an arm.

"Two," Bruce corrected. Blaine ducked his head.

"Two?" Steve asked confusedly. He paused before continuing, "They got us in your lab." Realization dawned and he looked at Blaine. "You left already. How did they get you?"

Blaine opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came. He looked at Steve, silently pleading with him to understand.

"Blaine," Steve said, the agony clear to Blaine despite his even tone. Blaine ducked his head again and pressed his forehead to Steve's shoulder. Steve's fingers slid through Blaine's hair and stayed there, cradling his head. "Okay," Steve said quietly. "Okay."

*

"Can you walk?" Bruce asked, breaking the silence. Blaine lifted his head and stepped back.

Steve nodded, though he leaned heavily on the table, and took a deep breath before speaking, "We got a plan?"

"Just getting out of here before anyone comes back," Bruce answered. "We're going to have to make up the rest as we go."

"We can go back to the room they brought you in at," Blaine suggested.

"You know how to get there?" Bruce questioned.

Blaine retrieved his phone from his bag and showed the others his crude map of the corridors he had scribbled on the notepad app.

"Nicely done," Bruce praised. "You got it?" he asked, looking at Steve.

Steve nodded and Blaine looked between them.

"Did you both just memorize it?"

Steve managed a tiny smirk as Bruce replied, "Helps in certain situations."

"No kidding," Blaine agreed. He put his cell away. "Ready?"

They slipped out of the room silently, Blaine in the lead though the other two followed closely behind. They made their way slowly, both Bruce and Steve's wounds still aching. The corridors were thankfully quiet, save for a series of loud clanging that had them crouching at the last juncture before their destination. Suddenly, an alarm rang through the corridors.

"Go," Steve urged despite the resurgence of clanging and the pounding of heavy boots. Blaine helped Steve up and the three hurried to the door. It slid open at their approach, only to halt a few inches ajar as another alarm went off.

"Must be a lockdown," Bruce muttered. He moved back as Steve stepped closer. Bracing his shoulder against the doorframe, Steve slipped his hands into the opening and pushed against the door. It didn't budge.

Blaine flinched as a loud bang echoed down the hall and more footfalls came. Bruce looked at the console by the door as Steve tried again, to no avail.

"I have no idea how to override this," Bruce said, pressing a couple buttons. The light flickered behind the symbols but disappeared quickly.

"Let me try?" Blaine asked as the footfalls grew louder. Bruce eyed him for a moment before relenting, standing back to give Blaine room. Blaine pressed the sequence of buttons he had used on the medical room door, silently pleading for it too work.

Steve stumbled when the door gave way and completely opened. The three hastened in and the door slid shut behind them, muffling the chaotic sounds though they still grew louder. Steve leant against the wall, breathless, but Blaine tugged him into motion. He led them to the other end of the room, to the pile of crates.

When they were crouched behind the crates and equipment, Blaine looked closer at Steve--looked at his heaving chest, and heard the wheeze behind the ragged breathing. He sat slumped against the wall, shoulders curled in and body looking too heavy to hold up. Steve's eyes were hazy, the circles under his eyes more pronounced than when he was lying on the examination table. Blaine rested a hand on Steve's arm, his skin clammy and sweat beading at his temples. Steve's hands shook where they rested on his thighs, and his fingers looked thin. The bruises dotting Steve's arms stood out against his pallid skin, and the angry rashes had spread. 

"Something's wrong," Blaine whispered, a statement more than a question. Steve looked at him, breath short and labored.

"I know," Steve wheezed out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let's just call them Klingons."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, ooh! Look up the alien names. I dare you. :o)

"The code's uploaded," Tony informed the young woman seated beside him. "Just enter these parameters and start scanning. Keep the frequency oscillating between 450 and 600."

"Yes, sir," the woman said.

Tony straightened and looked at Fury. "I like her."

Fury gave him an unimpressed look before asking the room at large, "Any sign of Thor?"

A chorus of 'negative' and 'no, sir' responded, and Fury strode back to the conference table where Clint and Natasha were seated, reviewing the video footage on tablets.

"That boy's got guts, doesn't he?" Natasha noted. Clint agreed with a subtle nod.

"That boy," Fury emphasized, "likes to get into trouble."

"Cut him some slack, 007," Tony cut in. "How long would it have taken to notice they were gone if he hadn't messaged us?"

"He could have done that from Stark Tower. No need to be a hero," Fury argued.

"His boyfriend is the 'great American hero,'" Natasha pointed out.

"And I'd like to remind you that Pepper might not be here without him," Tony stated.

Fury looked between Tony and Natasha before sighing and turning back to the monitors at his station. The bright blue sky and midday sun illuminated the entire bridge as they hovered several miles above Stark Tower.

"You like him," Natasha teased.

"I admit nothing," Tony replied with a wave of his hand. He tapped the comm in his ear. "Jarvis, you got anything yet?"

"While the recalibrated sensors allow us to visualize the intruders, I am unable to determine the exact nature of their weapons or the invisibility shield in use. Miss. Potts and I are still investigating."

"Send up what you have," Tony instructed, picking up another tablet from the table and tapping it impatiently.

"Yes, sir."

"I've got something," an officer called out.

Before Fury could call up the information on his screens, a thud echoed above them. Muffled footfalls sounded, and then a series of three knocks.

"Someone get the door," Fury ordered with a shake of his head. Agent Hill spoke quietly into her comm, ordering security to the forward hatch.

.....

The alarm continued, the klaxons shrill as the muffled chaos of the ship sounded both near and far. Blaine kept looking at Steve--at the sweat now covering his forehead and chest, and how he still had not steadied his breathing. Steve's skin was still cool and clammy under his fingers, and his entire body shivered.

"Is this how you were before?" Bruce asked somberly, voice quiet. Steve gave a shaky nod, and coughed weakly.

Jarred out of his stupor, Blaine whispered, "Before what?"

"Before the serum," Bruce supplied.

Blaine looked between Steve and Bruce, comprehension dawning. Steve offered him a bracing smile, though his lips trembled with the effort.

Blaine retrieved the extra pair of scrubs he had stashed in his bag and helped Steve put the shirt on. He sat down and tugged Steve to him. Steve moved sluggishly and unsteadily, but he tucked his head to Blaine's shoulder and gripped Blaine's cardigan as they settled. His breathing came out in warm puffs against Blaine's neck.

Bruce took a deep breath and said, "I thought it was just me." He looked at Blaine, and at Steve, who lifted his head enough to look at him. "The Hulk's gone."

Blaine started at a particularly loud thud, eyes jumping to the piled crates around them. Steve tensed, his breath wheezing out of him. He looked back at Bruce and tightened his arm around Steve.

"We'll get out of here," Blaine asserted.

Bruce smiled grimly, but nodded.

"Well, we can't wait around indefinitely," Bruce reasoned. "I'd like to see if I can access the ship's computer. Find out where we are."

"Back to the medical room?" Blaine asked.

"No," Steve rasped out. "Too risky."

"There's a screen by the door," Blaine offered. "Maybe that can tell us something?"

"It's worth a try," Bruce said, already standing.

Just then, the door slid open. No longer muffled by the door, the klaxons pierced loudly into the room. Bruce caught sight of two weapons held ready before he ducked back down, meeting Blaine's wide eyes.

*

"I have heard of this species," Thor said as he looked up from Natasha's tablet.

"Who are they?" Fury inquired.

"Their name is unpronounceable in your rudimentary language."

"Why don't you give us a try?" Tony commented impatiently.

"They are DenIbya'ngan Qatlh from the planet baghneQ bIreQtagh."

"Okay," Tony spoke up after a moment of silence, "let's just call them Klingons." When expressions remained blank, he went on, "No one got that? Where the hell have you all been?" He looked around again. "Oh right."

"Tell us everything you know," Fury said, pointing at the chair next to Thor. They all sat down at the conference table.

*

Steve tried to stand, but Bruce stayed him with a hand on his shoulder. They shared a look as the aliens slowly entered. The door slid shut. Blaine held his breath. Steve tried to even out his breathing and stifle the wheezing. Tense moments passed as the aliens remained, likely surveying the room. The footfalls started again, but to Blaine's dismay, they came closer.

Bruce, still crouched, carefully made his way further behind the crates. He peered out between two, catching site of the aliens. He stood, bracing himself against the wall and setting his hands on a crate. He peered between the crates again.

Blaine caught on and slid out from under and around Steve, silencing his protest with a fleeting kiss to his temple. Blaine positioned himself next to Bruce, palms against another crate, and waited.

The aliens showed no signs of leaving. In fact, one began slowly rounding the pile of crates. Before he could get very far, Bruce pushed hard, toppling the three piled crates onto the alien. Blaine followed, knocking his own mound onto the other and ducking behind the remaining upright one.

Bruce stumbled out from behind the wreckage and grabbed for the weapon that had skittered to the floor. He turned it on the downed aliens, busy pushing the crates off themselves, and spared a glance down at it. Aiming and pressing the only button he could find, the staff emitted a blast of light. It left a charred dent on the nearest alien's armor and elicited an angry cry. The alien struggled upright and Bruce fired again. With another cry, the alien cradled his arm and lurched forward to his knees. Bruce shot him again, this time hitting him in the head. The alien fell to the floor.

Blaine jumped out from his hiding place, distracting the other alien from returning fire on Bruce. Before Blaine could worry about being shot, Bruce fired again. The alien, having turned to Blaine, swung back around, only to receive a direct hit from Bruce. The alien staggered, dropped his weapon, and collapsed.

*

The breath rattled out of Blaine when the aliens lay on the floor unmoving. Bruce lowered the staff weapon, shoulders slumping. Steve struggled to standing, leaning against the wall, and surveyed the room.

"Glad to see some of my training is taking," Steve remarked, breathing still shaky.

"Wish I could say the same for you," Bruce quipped back. Steve's lips quirked up for a moment.

"Why don't you try the screen," Blaine suggested. Bruce nodded.

"We'll clean up," Steve offered. Blaine looked at him skeptically, but set about hauling the crates back into their stacks with Steve. The alarms still rang.

*

"Got something," Bruce called out, eyes still on the screen. Steve was sitting, hunched, on one of the crates, staff held on his lap as he again fought to breathe normally. Blaine came back out from behind the crates, having dragged the large aliens there to conceal them in case someone else entered the room.

"What?" Blaine prompted, stopping at Steve's side.

"I've got the ship's schematics and sensor readings. I think we're in low orbit over Earth."

"That's good, right? We're still close to home?" Blaine asked hopefully.

"Not exactly," Bruce murmured, tapping at the screen as images and alien symbols appeared.

"We find a shuttle," Steve suggested.

"That's the 'not exactly' part," Bruce said, looking back at them. "I don't think this ship has any shuttles, or small aircraft of any kind."

"So, how can we get off the ship?" Blaine asked.

Silence met his question.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I may have miscalculated my plan."

The Avengers sat scattered around the conference table. Tablet in hand, Tony was looking over the sensor readings thus far gathered when the beeping started.

"I didn't do it," Tony said, tapping his tablet and looking up.

"That would be me," an officer spoke up as he turned in his chair. Fury strode over to the officer's workstation, followed closely by Tony. "Sensors show a large aircraft in low orbit."

"Can you get a visual?" Fury asked.

"Coming up."

Tony and Fury turned back to the conference table, where a holographic projection appeared. The massive ship hovered above the table, image fuzzy from the shield but discernibly sharp-edged in several places and heavily armored.

"How big?" Natasha inquired.

The officer answered after a beat, "approximately 1,200 by 400 feet, and nearly 300 feet tall."

Clint whistled lowly and said, "That's bigger than any aircraft carrier we've got."

"It appears to be one of their warships," Thor offered.

"Of course," Tony replied sarcastically, stepping up to the table. "Can we get any other details?"

"Negative, sir. The sensors can read the outer hull and heat signatures that indicate propulsion, but the invisibility shield is blocking any further readings."

"We don't have any ships that can make it up there," Fury noted, looking intently at the blurry image.

"I can do it," Tony said. "Just a scouting trip," Tony elaborated when Fury eyed him. When Fury nodded his approval, Tony pressed a series of buttons on his tablet. "Jarvis, you got everything?"

"Yes, sir."

"Time to suit up."

*

"I may have an idea," Bruce said quietly, looking over his shoulder. Blaine had coaxed Steve back to the floor, partially hidden by the now rearranged crates. Steve had fought off sleep, but when his breathing had finally settled, fatigue took over and he was soon limp against Blaine's side. The staff weapon lay beside them within easy reach.

"If we can reroute the sensor protocol, we can input false readings," Bruce explained thoughtfully.

"What would that accomplish?" Blaine asked, voice low.

"Trick them into thinking the ship is off course and ascending. If they want to stay in low orbit, they'll change course."

"And bring us low enough--," Blaine added, comprehension dawning.

"So Fury's shuttles can reach us," Bruce finished.

"How is Fury going to know where we are?"

"I've accessed communications. Now I just have to figure out how to send a message."

"What can I do?"

"How do you feel about disabling the shield that makes the ship invisible? So Fury can see us when we descend into the atmosphere."

"Where do we start?" Blaine asked, shifting carefully under Steve.

"That's going to be the hard part."

"This hasn't been hard already?" Blaine joked lamely. Bruce smiled ruefully.

"Shutting off the shield won't be enough. They'll just turn it back on. I need to rework the physical components of the shield. And from what I can gather, I need to get to the engineering section to do it."

"I'm guessing it's not next door."

"No," Bruce confirmed grimly. "Nor will it be sparsely manned."

"Of course."

"We should get going then," Steve spoke up, tipping his head against Blaine's shoulder and turning heavy lidded eyes to Bruce. Blaine shifted as Steve sat up, and ran his fingers along Steve's damp forehead, unsurprised that Steve had heard everything. Steve took his hand and offered Blaine a small smile.

"It's a good 500 feet from here and three floors up," Bruce explained. "And we're going to need access to a console once it's done."

"You can do everything from here?" Blaine asked.

"Yes," Bruce answered, "but it'll be easier to find somewhere closer to engineering."

"Not if you stay here," Blaine suggested.

"No," Steve said, already shaking his head.

"It makes sense," Blaine countered, looking at Steve.

"You want to go alone?" Bruce asked, looking between Steve and Blaine.

"Yes--," Blaine started.

"No," Steve interrupted.

Blaine gave Steve another look before turning to Bruce and asked, "We've got to reprogram the sensors, send some kind of communication, and shut down the shield for this to work, right?"

"It will be easier if we get all three, yes."

"So, it's logical to split up. You work on the sensors and communications, and I'll get the shield."

"It's risky," Bruce warned.

"I know. But it's better if you stay out of the line of fire. You're the one who knows how to work that thing," Blaine said, waving at the console.

"We'll go together," Steve insisted.

"Someone's got to keep an eye out while Bruce is working his magic."

"He can take care of himself."

Bruce remained silent, watching the exchange.

"You're in no shape to make it that far, much less fight anyone off once we get there," Blaine reasoned. When Steve did not protest, Blaine tried to tease, "I am pretty good with technology."

"You shouldn't go alone," Steve countered softly though it was clear he agreed with Blaine.

"I'll be okay," Blaine soothed. He forced a smile and stood up. "I have a plan."

Blaine rounded the pile of crates and tugged off an alien's helmet. He slipped it on and reappeared, his voice muffled by the armor. Bruce huffed a laugh and Steve's lips twitched with a smile.

"Walk me through what I have to do."

*

"Jarvis, any chance we'll know if they see us coming?"

"Other than if you are fired upon, sir?"

"Was that sass? Pepper, did Jarvis just sass me?"

"I think you should focus on scoping out the ship, Tony," Pepper advised. "You're almost there."

"Indeed I am," Tony confirmed as he spied the barely there outline of the ship and slowed his ascent. "Jarvis, switch on the sensors."

The helmet screen flickered and the outline solidified and filled with a dark gray metal plated hull, with ridges and sharp edges here and there. The image wavered as if under water, but the ship loomed over him as Tony scanned the undercarriage, letting Jarvis record the visual.

"Sir, I advise you stay close to avoid detection while I continue scanning."

"Yep," Tony agreed as he flew along the underside of the ship and around the other side.

"The hull is not made from any known earth metal," Jarvis informed. "However, the construction of the ship is similar to our naval ships."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning there are visible seams in the plating. They may be weaker than the rest of the ship."

"Noted. Let's head over to propulsion."

"Yes, sir."

*

"I may have miscalculated my plan," Blaine called out from behind the crates.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked concernedly, keeping the staff weapon now resting across his lap steady as he turned his head.

"I'm not eight feet tall."

"No," Steve said slowly, confused, then finished lamely, "you are not." 

Bruce snickered.

"And I don't have a tail," Blaine added as he moved into view.

Steve looked at Blaine draped in alien armor, the chest piece covering his entire torso down to his thighs, and the pants baggy and hanging off his legs. When Blaine turned sideways, Steve could see the large circular gap in the back of the armored pants that clearly showed off Blaine's denim-covered ass.

Bruce hid his smirk with a duck of his head and turned back to the console.

"I don't think the pants are going to work," Blaine said, hiking them up.

"I think they work just fine," Steve deadpanned. Blaine turned to glare at him and Steve could not contain the smile.

"Hmm," Blaine murmured disapprovingly, which only made Steve's smile wider.

Blaine turned back around and did a little shimmy before letting the armor fall to the floor in a series of clangs. Stepping out of the pool of metal plates and grabbing the other staff weapon, he stepped up next to Steve.

"It's not like I'm going to fool anyone anyway," Blaine commented. When Steve continued to smirk up at him, Blaine knocked the butt of the weapon lightly against Steve's temple. "Stop it," he ordered, though his tone held no firmness. He propped the staff on a crate and began pulling the rest of the armor off.

"You should keep that on," Steve suggested, fingers gripping the edge of the metal. "Just in case."

Blaine paused, looked down, and he and Steve shared a look. With a small nod, Blaine settled the armor back against his chest.

"Better get going," Blaine said quietly.

"Be careful."

Blaine leant down, pressing a tender kiss to Steve's forehead, and whispered, "I'm going to be fine."

Steve wrapped his fingers around Blaine's hand, rubbing his finger over the silver band on Blaine's ring finger, and lifted his head so he could press a kiss to Blaine's lips.

"I'm going to hold you to that."

When Blaine straightened, Bruce said, "You remember the layout?"

Blaine nodded.

"I'm going to know as soon as you reroute the cloak, so just get out of there as soon as you can."

With a final nod and a deep breath, Blaine strode to the door. It slid open at his proximity and, with a quick scan of the hallway, he slipped out of sight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Klingons, indeed."

"The ship's engine seems to rely on matter conversion, sir."

"Into anti-matter?" Tony asked, hovering close enough to touch the hull.

"I cannot determine the origins of the compound, but the process appears similar."

"Klingons, indeed."

"Sir?"

"Star Trek, Jarvis. Check your database."

Tony flew out from under the engine, following a seam in the unknown metal of the alien ship.

"Ah, yes, sir. Despite the fictional nature, the concept is quite accurate in this case."

"Klingons," Tony muttered again. "What do you say we run some tests on this hull?"

"What did you have in mind, sir?"

Tony answered by aiming his arm at the ship and firing.

*

Blaine hurried down the halls, sparing nervous and quick glances around corners, and passing the medical bay where he had found Steve and Bruce. The alarms still blared, but other than the loud humming and clanging of the engine, no footfalls sounded save his.

Following Bruce's directions, he reached a small door at the end of the hallway and, glancing down both sides to ensure his solitude, pulled on the handle. It did not budge. Blaine set the weapon on the floor, gripped the cool metal handle with both hands, and hauled the hatch open. The scraping noise echoed through the empty hallway and Blaine cringed, scanning his surroundings again. Sure that he was still alone in the corridor, he retrieved the staff and ducked into the door.

Just as he turned to reach for the door, a shout resounded down the hall and footfalls hastened. Heart racing, Blaine dropped the weapon and yanked on the door. It groaned and closed only part way. Blaine spared a look into the hallway--no one visible, but the sounds grew louder. He braced himself and gave the door another hard pull. It relented with another grinding noise, slamming shut and sending Blaine tumbling back. He grabbed the weapon and pressed himself back against the wall next to the door, breath trapped in his lungs.

The sounds persisted, louder and louder. Blaine counted at least six aliens by the varying footsteps, and hoped they had not heard the noise of the hatch. With each second they got closer, Blaine's dread grew. His grip tightened around the staff and he raised it, aiming it toward the door.

More shouting startled Blaine, and the armor covering his torso clanged against the metal bulkhead behind him. Blaine stepped away quickly, but stilled his movements as the aliens ran by. Long moments passed.

Only when Blaine was sure the noises receded far enough to be out of sight of the door, did he let out a breath and close his eyes in relief. He took several deep breaths to calm his nerves before assessing his surroundings. The room wasn't so much a room as a small, short hallway. One light filled the space from a panel above the hatch. Only a few feet away, a sturdy ladder bolted against the wall rose several hundred feet up a circular shaft. Blaine moved over to the metal ladder with another sigh--Bruce had been correct in his reading of the ship's schematics. Readjusting his hold on the staff, he grabbed the rails and swung his legs up. Ignoring the way the armor cut into his biceps, he climbed up the rungs quickly.

Lighting was sparse as he climbed, panels embedded in the walls emitting a soft glow as he passed each floor. They had to be at least 40 feet between floors, and Blaine was breathing hard by the time he reached the third floor. Blaine reached his foot back, finding his footing on the floor of another small hallway, and pushed away from the ladder. He stumbled a bit over the small jump to the floor, but righted himself easily. Stopping in front of the hatch, he took a few deep breaths as he wrapped his fingers around the handle.

The hatch on this floor proved easier to open, and Blaine pushed it just inches ajar. He peered out as best he could and saw nothing. Nor did he hear anything other than the rumbling of the engine, louder for his proximity. Taking another second to brace himself, Blaine pushed the door open a bit more and stuck his head out to see more of the corridor. Finding it empty, Blaine heaved the door open all the way and stepped out. He shut the door quickly and slipped down the hallway. He made it the rest of the way to the engineering section without incident, halting at the last juncture before the hallway that should contain several large double sliding doors that led to the various engineering stations.

The engine's thrumming filled Blaine's ears, and he could now discern the variance--how the pitch oscillated lower then higher then back down, and how the hum quickened every few seconds as if it were a heartbeat. He heard muffled talking too, and the occasional clang or scrape.

Steeling himself, Blaine hefted his weapon and raced to the other end of the empty corridor. Bruce had said to go in the farthest set of doors, where fewer aliens were likely to be. Blaine inputted the entry code quickly, taking a deep breath as the door slid open. Deep voices, no longer muffled by the door, traveled to his ears but he did not see anyone at first glance. Equipment and machines stood all over the room, offering several potential hiding places. Several panels along the wall were ajar, and more remained sealed. Blaine ducked behind a particularly tall column of tubes and wires. He glanced around the column, still finding no one in sight, and moved on to the next machine--a low apparatus with a thick turning rod in its center.

Blaine ducked behind two more noisy machines before finding himself next to the enormous engine, crude metal and clear tubes running to and from a large cylinder. A small window at the base glowed orange, the light pulsing spasmodically in time with the speed of the humming. 

The panel Blaine needed was on the other side of the engine. Blaine crept around the imposing structure, eyes darting around nervously as the engine's sounds muffled his hearing. The lone hatch came into view. Blaine paused, moving slower. His breath caught as he spied three aliens talking, one of them gesturing with some kind of tool in his hand. They stood just a few feet from his destination.

Blaine stepped back well out of sight and waited, hoping they would leave soon. Minutes passed and the aliens showed no signs of moving. Blaine retreated further, turning the staff in his hands. He did not want to give it up, but he needed a distraction. Moving back to where he first slipped behind the engine, he stood straight. He tipped the weapon horizontal and lifted it over his shoulder. Holding it like a javelin, he aimed at a smaller piece of equipment and heaved it.

The weapon struck the target, toppling it. The crash echoed loudly in the room and Blaine heard several shouts. He hurried back around the engine just in time to see the last alien moving away. Sticking his head out as far as he could from his hiding place, he confirmed the aliens were no longer anywhere near the hatch. He moved swiftly to the panel and prayed it would open easily. It did. Before Blaine knew it, he was crouching in the small space and tugging the panel closed, careful to make as little noise as possible. With a sigh, he slumped against the wall.

*

"Sir, I'm reading a dangerously high voltage electrical surge."

"Where, Jarvis?" Tony asked, halting his fire and lowering his arm.

"I have never seen such a controlled burst of electricity. It is quite focused. And it appears to be moving along the hull."

"Where?" Tony asked again, hovering away from the hull.

"Sir, I suggest you depart immediately."

"Yep," Tony agreed. He turned, but before his propulsion rockets engaged, the suit jolted and his helmet went dark. The suit wavered and dipped several feet. "Jarvis?"

"Sir, you appear...electrocuted...lost uplink..."

"Okay," Tony breathed out, attempting to balance himself as the comm went quiet. Propulsion flickered then completely shut off. He looked down at the thin layer of cloud below him just as he started falling. "Not good."

*

It was dark in the crawl space, and Blaine tentatively pushed away from the wall. The area was small for the over-eight-feet-tall aliens, but he could still move around rather well. He felt along the wall until his fingers brushed against raised metal. Tracing around the large rectangle panel, he found a small handle. When he pulled on it, the metal gave way and a soft glow filled the space. Blaine set the panel aside and looked at the mix of metal pieces and clear tubes filled with lighted elements. Pulling the armor off so he could better reach the components, he identified the parts Bruce briefed him on and set to work rerouting the cloaking device.

*

"Got it," Bruce said, standing up straight and stepping away from the console. He had lost his glasses somewhere between being drugged and waking up, and he had been hunched close to the monitor in the wall for some time.

"Got what?" Steve asked quietly, standing up with a bracing arm against the crates.

"Communications control."

"You can send a message?"

"Not quite. But at least I now have the capability," Bruce explained.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't think anyone will be able to decipher the alien language."

"You can't send it in English?" Steve inquired.

"No. I can't find any translation programs," Bruce said, sounding defeated. "And besides, the aliens are sure to see it and shut it down."

A silent moment passed.

"Can you send sounds?" Steve asked.

"Should be able to," Bruce answered slowly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Morse code," Steve offered.

Bruce mulled over the suggestion and said, "That could work." He looked back to the screen, pressing several buttons and squinting closely at the changing symbols. "I hope you remember it, because I have no idea," he added good-naturedly a few moments later.

"Doctor--," Steve trailed off with a sigh. Bruce turned and assessed Steve, pacing now, though he leaned on the staff weapon every now and then. He still trembled with the effort of just holding his own body upright, and his face was tense and pale.

"Steve?" Bruce prompted. Steve looked at him then, face stern. Pain flashed in his eyes.

"Why didn't you say anything when Blaine suggested going out there alone?"

"He made a compelling argument."

"He was trying to protect me."

"Well, you could use some protecting right now."

Steve blinked, the agony clear on his expression. Bruce offered an understanding smile and stepped closer. He settled a hand on Steve's shoulder, careful not to press too hard.

"He was right and you know it," Bruce said gently. "We'll get out of this."

"He's just--," Steve trailed off, running a hand through his damp hair.

"He knows what he's gotten into. And he is rather good at taking care of himself. Even Tony thinks so."

Steve huffed at Bruce's attempt at levity, but sobered quickly. He hung his head, taking measured breaths. Bruce squeezed his arm encouragingly.

Before Bruce could offer any more soothing words, the console beeped. Both men looked at it, and Bruce moved back over to the screen.

"He's done it," Bruce said, relieved. The tension leaving Steve with his quiet sigh was palpable. "What do you say we get our part of the plan going?"'

Steve nodded and hauled himself over to Bruce's side. Together, they crafted a message and Steve translated it into Morse code by tapping at the button Bruce indicated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's not back."

Tony straightened, head first into the descent. It wasn't rapid--he was in low earth orbit with very little gravity pulling at him, but he doesn't want to veer off course. The alien ship had been just over 200 miles up, not quite as high as earth's satellites but near enough. He had about 100 miles before he hit the atmosphere, but he already felt the drag.

The suit was completely dark and quiet--no hum of the hydraulics or idling propulsion, no hiss of circulating air. Tony tried to settle his breathing in the already thin air of the helmet. He had to stay conscious long enough for re-entry, had to counter the currents on the edge of the atmosphere so he made it through and didn't end up stuck in the tumultuous gaseous tides. Fury must be tracking him. If he got through, Fury's ships might be able to retrieve him. Tony didn't dwell on the improbability of that part of the plan yet, just set his sights on the continents below as they shifted into more detail.

*

Blaine clicked the last part back in place, and the components' lights flickered back on. He blinked at the brightness, glancing around as if someone might have snuck up on him in the couple minutes it had taken him to rearrange the cloaking mechanism. When none of the shadows moved, Blaine allowed himself a moment's satisfaction over the completed task.

The klaxons still rang and the engine continued to hum, but what caught his attention was a muffled voice. Blaine reached for the panel and carefully set it back into the wall, keenly listening for other unusual sounds. Another voice, closer now, and then a heated conversation reached his ears.

Blaine crept to the hatch, hand hovering on the small handle. He can't stay--he may not have been fast enough, and the aliens may have noticed the few seconds when the cloak had shut off completely when he had moved the last piece. Blaine had worked as quickly as possible, but now, as the voices grew louder, he feared they would discover him.

Taking a deep breath, Blaine nudged the door open. Pressing his cheek to the door, he peeked out of the couple inches of space. The aliens--three of them and different from before--were off to the side. Blaine watched them, the conversation sounding serious and engrossing. When one pointed at something away from the hatch, Blaine took his chance. He slipped out of the hatch and shut it, staying crouched as he hurried the few meters to the engine. Once hidden by the hulking propulsion system, Blaine steadied his breathing and glanced at the aliens. They were still talking. He looked around and saw other aliens working at stations along the far wall, and another cluster of four working on the apparatus he had flung the staff at earlier. He didn't dwell on the fact that they may have all been there before and he hadn't seen them.

He scrambled to the other side of the engine to retrace his path into engineering, checking that the aliens were all still occupied as he ducked behind each piece of equipment. He reached the last column of wires and tubes, the exit right there. Sparing a quick glance around both sides, the aliens now across the room and still talking to each other, Blaine raced to the door only to come to an abrupt halt when the doors did not open. Eyes wide, fear and adrenaline flooding his body, Blaine stepped back and looked around the door. Spying the small console to the right, he leaned over and stabbed the buttons with the code as quickly as he could. His hands shook as the buttons lit up in succession and the second it took for the doors to respond seemed interminable. Blaine let out a relieved huff when the doors slid open, but before he could make it through them, he heard an angry bellow.

Blaine didn't need to look back, knew he'd been seen. Instead, he took off down the corridor as doors hissed open on both sides of him. Aliens yelled and another alarm blared, creating a cacophony that echoed discordantly in the hall. His footfalls echoed down the hall, joined by more and more pounding footsteps as the seconds passed. Blaine could hear the aliens' harsh breathing, knew they could only be a few feet behind him. He ran faster, skidding around the juncture. Spying the door to the ladder at the end of the corridor, Blaine ignored the pain in his lungs and legs, and sped up.

Weapons' fire sounded behind him and blasts of light slashed past him to char the walls and ceilings. Blaine flinched at their proximity, but there was no way of ducking as the shots continued to come from behind. The ache in his chest spread lower and suddenly pierced through his entire abdomen just as he slammed into the bulkhead next to the door. He yanked it open and jumped through, hauling it shut. The pain intensified as he struggled to take deep breaths, body trembling and vision blurring. Clamoring and more blasts just outside the door spurred Blaine back into action, and he reached for the ladder. But the pain flared and the already dim room darkened. Blaine stumbled, lost his balance, and the room tipped. His legs crumpled under him and he collapsed back against the wall, sliding down it slowly. His vision blurred and darkened further, and he blinked sluggishly. Each shallow and shaking breath in sent a wave of pain through him. He managed to press a hand low to his chest, but it only brought more pain. His palm slid down his sweat-damp shirt and he was vaguely aware of a thick wetness on the side of his shirt as his hand thumped to the ground. His limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated, and his thoughts slowed until he was barely aware of anything. Light shafted into the room as the door was ripped open, and Blaine winced as pain throbbed behind his eyes. Two aliens ducked in. Blaine's head lulled to the side, but the imposing figures were only hazy shadows blocking out the unwelcome light.

The aliens grabbed his upper arms roughly and hauled him up. He cried out as the pain seared through his abdomen and then darkness enveloped him.

*

"Well, this sucks," Tony muttered as he tried desperately to keep himself on course as the atmospheric tides pushed and pulled at him, and as it dragged him down faster. Sweat dripped down his temples and forehead, the heat from re-entry warming the suit well above standards. His breaths shallowed in the thin air, and he shook his head to keep the impending unconsciousness at bay.

When the turbulence abruptly ended minutes later, Tony closed his eyes in relief and succumbed to the lack of oxygen slowing his brain. His body tumbled limply, descending rapidly now.

"Stark!"

Tony started awake, unsure of how long it had been since he closed his eyes.

"Stark!"

Tony looked around, spying a shuttle to his left attempting to match his descent.

"You going to help us out, or do we have to do all the work?" Natasha teased over the shuttle's intercom speakers.

"What you got?" Tony tossed back, his usual biting tone dulled by his slowed reflexes and lack of air.

The shuttle tipped out of the way as Tony tumbled around in the wind, Clint and Natasha visible in the cockpit.

“Straighten out and we’ll get under you,” Clint instructed.

Tony nodded as best he could in the helmet and forced his body to roll so he was face-down. Fighting unconsciousness, he forced his limbs out, forced himself to hold firm against the air currents.

“We’re coming,” Natasha said as Clint dipped the shuttle under Tony. She unbuckled her seatbelt and headed to the rear. With swift efficiency, she secured herself to the bulkhead with thick nylon cord and carabiners, and affixed another longer cord to the bulkhead, gripping the looped rope. She pressed her palm to the large release button. The ramp lowered, the combination of their speed and the air rushing in roaring loudly.

“Ready,” Natasha called out just as Clint angled the shuttle forward. Natasha braced herself with a hand gripping the ceiling and widened her stance. Soon, Tony was in view a few dozen feet above and behind them, as he and the shuttle descended in sync.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Clint cautioned.

“Slow her down,” Natasha instructed.

The shuttle slowed minutely and the distance between Tony and the shuttle decreased.

“Keep going!” Natasha yelled.

Clint continued to decelerate the shuttle, letting Tony gain little by little on them. Natasha tossed the length of rope toward him, the end flapping in the wind. The carabiner holding the other end to the shuttle held fast.

Tony made a grab at the rope three times before he grasped it in his suited fingers. He could do little except hold on, the lack of air suffocating him now. He blinked hard, shaking his head, as Natasha and the shuttle blurred in front of him. He could see Natasha’s arms moving, her shock of red hair the only other discernible thing in his field of view.

Natasha dragged the rope in slowly, pulling hard as Clint slowed the shuttle another tiny increment and began leveling off. An air current tipped the shuttle to the right and down, and the rope swayed Tony out of view.

“Nat,” Clint warned, bracing his arms and gripping the control wheel hard to keep it steady.

“I know.” Natasha said. “Almost there.”

She tightened her grip on the rope and, as soon as Clint leveled the shuttle again, she heaved hard. Tony came back into view, and with another hard pull, his head was just inside the shuttle. Tony’s shoulder banged against the bulkhead when the shuttle dipped again, and Natasha cringed in sympathy. She hauled on the rope again, Tony’s entire body now sheltered by the shuttle and crashing onto the ramp. He made no move as Natasha secured the rope, tight along the bulkhead, and knotted fast to the protruding latches and handles. She grabbed an unconscious Tony under the arms and dragged him further into the shuttle.

As soon as he was off the ramp, Natasha called out, “Got him.”

Clint pressed a series of buttons on his console and the ramp started to close. The shuttle sped up and Clint changed course.

*

Light burned behind Blaine’s eyelids, coming and going quickly but still sending his brain pounding. He turned his head, but was forced back by cool fingers. He whimpered in protest, blinking his eyes but he couldn’t keep them open. The pain in his abdomen was excruciating, sending his heart fluttering unevenly and his muscles spasming. Blaine tried to curl in on himself, but he could not make his body cooperate. His arms and legs felt too heavy and constrained.

Alien voices spoke around him, words harsh sounding and foreign. A stabbing pain in his arm had him crying out, and the jostling in his chest sent another shock of pain through his abdomen. His brain throbbed, and before he could recover from the echoing waves of hurt and too much, his thigh flared and burned with even more pain. He was babbling, he was sure of it because he felt his tongue moving in his mouth, but the words did not make it back to his ears. And he was crying, the tears slipping from under his closed eyelids, sliding hot over his cheeks, and dripping down his ear lobe. He struggled for breath, the air wet and thick in his lungs and each inhale sending another flood of pain through his entire body.

The voices continued, but none of it made sense. Every tiny movement or touch from the aliens elicited pain. Blaine sobbed now, body warring against him and brain no longer able to process anything but the hurt hurt hurt.

Slowly, he felt coolness steel over him, along with a creeping numbness. His thoughts quieted, slipping away from the situation and filling his mind with images of Steve; of warm nights of clasped hands and pleasured sighs; and of a wedding and honeymoon still in the early stages of planning, a wedding that seemed so impossible now. More tears slid down his face but as the numbness grew, he welcomed the relief as he slipped back toward unconsciousness.

*

“He’s not back,” Steve stated needlessly.

Bruce tapped the screen before turning to look at Steve, his expression sober.

“I’m sure he’s just laying low,” Bruce assured.

Steve grabbed the staff from where it leaned against the wall, “I should go look for him.”

“I need to finish this.”

“I can go alone, doctor.”

Bruce leveled Steve with an unconvinced look before saying, “And do what? Just walking across the room has you breathing hard.”

Steve’s expression fell.

“I should have gone with him,” Steve said quietly.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead, smiling in apology.

“The communication is sent. The sensors are recalibrated. And I’m almost done programming the cloak to turn off when we need it too. When that’s done, we’ll go find him, okay?”

Steve slumped against the wall next to Bruce, closing his eyes. A moment later, he nodded. Bruce squeezed his arm before going back to work.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What was that?" "A distraction."

“Done,” Bruce said, scanning the monitor one last time before turning to Steve. “We’re ready.”

“Except Blaine isn’t back,” Steve added somberly.

Steve still looked pale and sickly, but less fatigued. Bruce had made no indication he noticed the way Steve had to stop his pacing every now and then to lean heavily on the wall or crates while he worked. Nor did he say anything about the wheezy and shakiness he still heard when Steve took a deep breath.

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” Bruce suggested, looking back at the monitor and pressing a series of symbols on the screen. Steve stopped his pacing and moved closer.

“What do you have in mind?”

“If the aliens are anything like Earth reptiles,” Bruce began, eyes flickering across a diagram, “then their body temperature will be lower than ours.” He pressed another button and a partial blueprint appeared, simple lines delineating walls and corridors, machines and furniture. Small blue and green dots flickered to life, some stationary and some moving.

“Those are aliens?” Steve asked. His eyes darted to a large group of them, moving hastily around a large room.

Bruce hummed his answer, pressing at another symbol. The image shifted, zooming out. Bruce tapped the screen again, this time the schematic zooming out to reveal the entire ship.

“Why haven’t they found us this way?” Steve asked.

“I don’t think it’s something they’ve scanned for before. I had to program the parameters in.”

“Looks like at least 700 aliens on board,” Steve estimated.

“The color indicates body temperature,” Bruce supplied. “Look for an orange or red dot. That should be Blaine.”

The two men silently searched the image, staying quiet as Bruce zoomed in on section after section and traced Blaine’s path to and from engineering.

“There,” Steve said, pointing at a lone yellow dot. A few blue ones hovered nearby in the same room, and several more were just outside. Bruce centered on the image. “You said it would be orange or red,” Steve pointed out. “What does yellow mean?”

“It means his body temperature is below normal.” Bruce zoomed out on the section of the ship, and noted two red dots where they were located. He frowned at the screen.

“What is it, doctor?”

Bruce looked at Steve, concern clear on his expression, and said, “He’s in the medical lab he found us in.”

*

“Ridiculous pile of metal,” Natasha muttered as her fingers slid along the bottom of Tony’s helmet.

“Nat?” Clint asked from the pilot’s chair, shooting a concerned glance over his shoulder before returning his attention to the window.

“Just,” Natasha explained, finding the release and not too carefully removing the helmet, “boys and their toys.” She set the helmet on the floor and checked Tony’s pulse and breathing. Finding neither too far from the norm, she leaned over and hauled the first aid supplies out from under the bench. She tested the knob on the small oxygen tank, setting it to release small amounts at a time before slipping the clear plastic mask over Tony’s nose and mouth.

“Well, you know the bigger the toy,” Clint spoke up, “the bigger the need to compensate.”

Natasha huffed her amusement as she attempted to separate the arm from the suit. Her efforts were useless. She rechecked Tony’s pulse.

“I heard that,” Tony mumbled quietly, voice hoarse and distorted by the mask. His head lulled to the side. He coughed weakly.

“Funny, you’re not disputing it,” Natasha teased, gently tipping his head back straight in case he had a neck injury.

“Give me a few minutes,” Tony rasped out. He moved his arms, the metal clanging dully together in his clumsiness. Natasha reached over to still him.

“Stay put. You’ve been out for a few minutes. The medics are going to want to check you out.”

“I’m fine,” Tony protested, shuffling to sit up. Natasha pressed a palm to his forehead, her other arm still firmly laid across Tony’s chest.

“Stay,” she ordered. Tony huffed indignantly, but relented.

“Approaching,” Clint called out. The shuttle slowed and turned. Seconds later, they landed, the impact barely noticeable and the wheels groaning under the shuttle’s weight.

The medics were on board before the doors finished opening, and Clint quickly powered the shuttle down. They followed Tony and the EMT’s, everyone ignoring Tony’s protests that he could walk as they rolled him onto a backboard and carried him to sick bay.

“We have something,” Fury prefaced as he and Thor appeared at the foot of Tony’s bed. Two medical personnel were prying parts of the suit from Tony’s legs, while another checked Tony’s blood pressure. An I.V. ran into the crook of Tony’s other arm, and the oxygen mask replaced by small tubes. Already removed metal components were piled on the chair nearby, and Clint and Natasha stood back in quiet conversation.

“Can someone get me an uplink?” Tony asked, exasperated. He looked at Fury expectantly. “These guys won’t get me an uplink.”

Fury rounded the bed, handed him the tablet in his hand, and said, “Check this out first.”

Natasha and Clint came up to the other side of Tony as the medics slipped away. Images and symbols scrolled across the screen.

“Where is this from?” Tony asked.

“We picked this up about five minutes ago.”

“What is it?” Natasha asked, glancing up.

“Ship schematics,” Fury answered. “Thor says it’s the alien ship.”

“From our guys?”

“Most likely, but there was no message.”

“No audio?” Clint inquired.

“Nothing discernible.”

Clint looked at Tony, who nodded and restarted the stream of information. He slid his finger up the side of the screen to increase the volume, and dull static came from the tablet.

They listened for several long moments, and Tony scanned the streaming information again.

“The coordinates and flight path--,” Fury added, only to stop when Clint raised a hand.

“Play it back,” Clint instructed. Tony replayed the message. At the first series of dots and dashes, Clint spoke up, “There.”

“Your spidey senses tingling?" Tony quipped.

Clint shot him an unimpressed look. Tony smirked.

“Morse code,” Clint said as the variations in static continued. “Hulk gone,” he translated slowly, “recalibrating sensors, cloak disengaged--.”

“Head back to the bridge and decipher that message,” Fury ordered. Clint nodded and exited. Fury followed, pressing the comm in his ear and saying, “Get the fighters prepped. I want everyone ready to go on my order.”

“I will provide further assistance in the translation,” Thor said. With a slight bow, he took his leave. Natasha followed wordlessly. Tony was already preoccupied with getting linked to Stark Tower, barely noticing the medics re-enter and continue their work.

“Tony,” Pepper’s relieved voice emitted from the tablet. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Tony answered. “Send me up another suit.”

“You’re going out again?”

“Not yet. But we got some information.”

“I saw. Fury’s got me on a live uplink. Which one do you want?”

“Have Jarvis clean up 12,” Tony answered after a pause.

“Be careful,” Pepper advised.

“Aren’t I always?”

“Not by any definition I know.”

“I defy definition,” Tony remarked.

“Tony,” Pepper chastised.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful,” Pepper repeated, this time more insistently.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed gently.

“Thank you.”

*

“We need to get him,” Steve said, retrieving the alien weapon and heading toward the door.

“We’d never make it with that many aliens nearby,” Bruce warned, curling his fingers around Steve’s arm. Steve looked down at Bruce’s grip, thought better of arguing, and turned to the other man.

“We can’t wait for a rescue,” Steve insisted.

“No, we can’t,” Bruce agreed. “Let me make a couple adjustments and then we can go.”

Steve looked at Bruce for a beat, and then nodded. Bruce went back to the monitor.

A minute later, Steve stumbled as the ship pitched forward and a second alarm sounded over the steady thrumming of the initial one.

“What was that?” Steve asked once he’d regained his balance and braced himself on the wall.

Bruce’s fingers flicked across the screen and the internal sensor layout reappeared. The blue dots around the lab moved swiftly away and down the hall, but the three in the room remained.

“A distraction,” Bruce answered, pressing two buttons on the screen so it went blank. He looked at Steve and, slipping Blaine’s bag over his shoulder, said, “Let’s go.”

*

Bruce and Steve made their way quickly down the hallways, retracing the path from the medical room. Just as they reached the hallway to the medical room, they had to duck back down two corridors when they heard heavy boots hastening toward them. Fortunately, the aliens went the other way.

Steve stood slumped against the wall, chest heaving and sweat covering his forehead as the footfalls receded. The alarms blared discordantly, muffling his wheezing breaths. Bruce watched him warily as Steve struggled to catch his breath.

“Go,” Steve rasped out, closing his eyes as the corridor began tilting in his vision.

“We can wait a few more seconds,” Bruce reasoned, looking around.

Steve forced his eyes open and pushed himself off the wall.

“No, we need to go.”

Bruce silently took the staff from Steve and moved back down the corridor. Steve stumbled, limbs aching and uncooperative, but he kept up.

By the time they reached the doors to the lab, Steve’s breathing was shaky and shallow, and his entire body trembled with the exertion. Bruce himself was barely breathing heavy, and he pressed Steve against the wall as he punched in the code to open the door.

Bruce raised the weapon and stepped into the room. He pressed himself against the end of the row of cabinets, partially concealed, and fired. His aim was off, but still managed to hit the nearest soldier in the arm. The alien’s cry alerted the other two, who quickly took positions behind the medical equipment, and Bruce ducked to avoid a blast. He aimed and shot again, this time hitting a second alien straight on when he came up from behind an exam table. The neck injury was fatal, and the alien crumpled to the floor. Bruce saw Blaine on the other bed, the same one Steve had been on before.

The other two fired back in succession, keeping Bruce cornered by the cabinet. Suddenly, movement in his periphery caught the aliens’ attention and the weapons’ fire followed it. Bruce had only a moment to realize it was Steve before he took his chance. He hit the injured alien, causing him to drop his weapon and collapse to his knees.

Steve dodged the blasts, crouching and taking cover behind a small cart filled with medical instruments. His vision swam and his breathing shot pain through his chest as he watched Bruce disarm the second alien, though he remained alive as he crawled along the floor toward his weapon. Bruce fired at the third alien, who shot back. Steve struggled to breathe, his legs shaking underneath him and his hands unsteady against the cart. He forced himself up and grabbed the largest implement on the tray before stumbling over to the downed alien. Too uncoordinated to duck when a blast flung by him, he ignored the grazing heat on his shoulder and flung himself on top of the injured alien. He jabbed his weapon into the alien’s neck, finally aware of the long syringe grasped in his trembling hand as it sunk in. He pressed the plunger down as the alien thrashed under him, dislodging Steve, who fell back onto the floor.

Steve scrambled for the weapon, reaching it and taking shaky aim, but it wasn’t necessary. The alien lay still on the floor. Steve let out a shuddery sigh, just as the last alien came into view. Before he could lift the staff, a blast hit him in the head and the alien dropped to the floor.

Bruce appeared next to the last killed alien, and lowered his weapon.

“You okay?” he asked Steve.

Steve nodded, his harsh breathing obscuring any effort to speak. He got his legs under him and slowly stood, Bruce’s arm around his waist a welcome aid. Together, they made their way to the table where Blaine lay.

As soon as Steve reached Blaine’s side, the staff fell from his grasp and he had to lean heavily on the edge of the bed. Bruce retrieved the weapon and set both on the nearby table before rounding the exam table and checking Blaine’s pulse. Steve could do nothing but stare--stare at Blaine’s pale face; bloodstained clothing and fingers; the various tubes that looked tiny against his arm but looked dangerous and invasive running into Blaine’s elbow and thigh; and the large gaping wound on the left side of his abdomen that revealed seared skin, clumps of shirt fibers clinging to the broken and blistering flesh, and dark blood dripping down Blaine’s side and onto the bed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sorry, love."

"Nice," Tony muttered appreciatively as he scanned the data downloading to the screen in front of him.

"Jarvis is still fine tuning, but we've already gotten quite a lot of sensor data," Pepper said, voice coming through the speakers mounted around the lab.

"Combine this with the schematics from the message--," Tony trailed off as he stepped around the table and slid his finger over the screen to look at something else.

"And we've got everything we need," Pepper finished. "We've also got enough preliminary life signs to isolate out the non-aliens."

"Do it."

"Already done. Fury's got the added sensor code."

Tony accessed the ship's sensors and sure enough, three red dots appeared on the lowest level of the alien ship's schematics--two together and a lone one. Life signs scrolled along the side--body temperature, heart rate, and respiration. He frowned at the readings.

"Stark, you see what I see?" Fury's voice cut in over the comm.

"I'm guessing a body temp of 94 and a pulse of 40 isn't good," Tony replied.

The door hissed open and Natasha, followed by Clint and Thor, entered and said, "You guess correctly."

"We're trying to figure out who's who," Pepper said, worry clear in her tone.

"Fighters are ready and the shuttle's prepped," Natasha informed. "Time to suit up."

"Yep," Tony agreed, clearing the screen with a swipe of his hand. "Pepper?"

"Yes?"

"Keep fine-tuning."

"It's what I do," Pepper quipped.

"Until you can see every curl on Blaine's little head."

"So you can make sure he comes back with every curl?" Pepper asked wryly.

"It's what I do," Tony echoed.

"Are you done?" Clint asked, unimpressed, but not unkindly.

Tony stared at him until Natasha rapped her knuckles on the suit.

"Let's go," she ordered and strolled out of the room. The suit came to life and followed.

"Hey," Tony protested. Clint's smirk silenced any further words and they filed out of the lab.

*

"Sir, the alien ship's gone into rapid descent."

"Scramble the fighters," Fury ordered. The communications officer nodded and spoke quietly into his comm. Fury pressed a button at his console.

"Looks like the timeline's moved up," Fury said.

"What does that mean?" Natasha asked into the shuttle's comm as she locked her seatbelt. Clint did the same as Tony suited up. Thor stood behind the chairs, gripping his hammer and listening intently.

"It means the ship's about to enter the atmosphere."

"On our way," Clint said, flipping several switches and pressing a button. The shuttle's engines roared to life.

"We've figured out where they entered the ship at," Pepper added. "The two life signs were there."

"Were?" Natasha asked.

"They're moving now."

"Trying to get to the third," Clint guessed as he lifted off and maneuvered the shuttle upward.

"Can't tell for sure, but that's a safe bet," Pepper said. "I've sent up the video images of the entry hatch. I'll let you know when I have more."

*

"Doctor?" Steve barely got out, still trying to catch his breath and comprehend what he was seeing.

"He's alive," Bruce answered grimly, "barely."

Steve lifted a shaky hand, hovering over Blaine's body helplessly.

"What can we do?"

"We need to keep him sedated for as long as possible."

"Why?"

"Because I'm fairly sure being sedated is the only thing keeping him alive. But the rest?" Bruce pointed to the large tube coming from Blaine's thigh. "That one looks to be extracting blood, which can't be good since he's already lost a significant amount."

Bruce tugged Blaine's bag over his shoulder and set it at the foot of the table. He pulled out the extra bandages and handed them to Steve. With careful fingers, Bruce pulled the needle from Blaine's thigh and guided Steve's hand over the injection site. Steve pressed down lightly, residual blood quickly soaking the cotton. Bruce removed another needle from Blaine's arm, and Steve covered it with a bandage.

Bruce went to work on Blaine's wound next, searching the various cabinets and drawers for more supplies as Steve looked on helplessly. He worked in silence, only muttering about the lack of sanitation before pressing several bandages to the gaping injury. Steve helped roll Blaine's limp body as Bruce wrapped a bandage around his abdomen, the sharp, blaring alarm ringing muffled and constant around them.

With that done, Bruce patted Steve's arm encouragingly.

"I'm going to check on the ship's status. You okay to take those I.V.'s out?"

Steve nodded, the exertion of killing the alien still lingering in his labored breathing and tremulous muscles. Bruce moved over to a console housing a screen and several buttons, and began deciphering the alien computer. Despite his shaking fingers, Steve very gently extracted the rest of the needles from Blaine's arm, careful to press bandages to the crook of his elbow and wrist.

"Ship's still descending," Bruce said. "And we've got a lot of movement throughout the ship."

Steve settled his hand gently over Blaine's forehead, thumb stroking high on Blaine's pale, cool cheek.

"He shouldn't be here," Steve said quietly.

"I know," Bruce offered kindly. When Steve looked at him, he added, "But he's where he wanted to be."

"How could he want to be here?" Steve asked, looking back at Blaine.

"It's where you were," Bruce answered simply.

*

"We're going to have to move fast," Clint advised.

"What's up?" Tony asked.

"They've slowed their descent."

"I'll head out. Meet you at the hatch."

"Your weapons couldn't penetrate the hull," Natasha reminded.

"It cannot withstand my hammer," Thor spoke up.

"Well, then," Tony said, pushing the door's release button. "You're with me."

Thor slung an arm around Tony's shoulder, and as soon as the door was open, they took off.

"Jarvis, you got me patched in?"

"Yes, sir. I show no life signs in the room where the hatch is located."

"Great. Let's get to it then."

Tony sped up, the shuttle following close behind.

*

Blaine roused slowly, limbs heavy and head throbbing. The ache was there and when he tried to concentrate on it, it flared into unbelievable pain. He moaned, tilting his head. His cheek met cool metal as opposed to his soft pillow, and he struggled to remember where he was.

A warm hand on his cheek was a welcome relief. Steve. He sighed, though the subsequent intake of breath spiked the pain back up and made him whimper again. He wanted to curl up against the pain, but his body wouldn't cooperate. Another hand took his and enveloped it in warmth.

"Shh," Steve soothed. "I'm here."

A soft kiss to his knuckles had Blaine's tense muscles loosening, had the pain ebbing just a little. Another kiss to his forehead and Blaine took a tentative breath, slow and shallow, but free from the excruciating hurt.

Blaine opened his eyes, the bright light whiting out his vision until he blinked several times. Even then, his eyelids felt laden and Steve's face swam in front of him. But it was undoubtedly Steve, and Blaine's lips curled into just a hint of a smile.

"I was dreaming of our wedding," Blaine murmured slowly, mouth dry and tongue sluggish.

"Yeah?" Steve asked breathlessly, stroking a finger over the silver band on Blaine's ring finger.

"You looked good in a tux," Blaine continued. Steve's lips twitched up.

Blaine blinked. Steve's face looked different--tense and pallid, thin with sweat dotting his forehead. The smile wasn't real, no matter how little it was. He tried to move his hand to touch, but Steve pressed their clasped hands to his chest.

"I bet you looked perfect," Steve countered, leaning closer.

Blaine tried to shake his head, but the ache rattled in his brain and his vision dimmed. Blaine closed his eyes against the shifting room.

"Wasn't there," Blaine mumbled, voice trailing off.

"Blaine?"

"I've got two dozen aliens very clearly heading this way," Bruce spoke up.

"Okay," Steve said. He took a deep breath and looked at Blaine. Careful to avoid touching Blaine's wound, and trying his best to ignore how the bandages were already soaked red, he slid his arms under Blaine's thighs and shoulders.

He lifted Blaine as gently as he could, but gone was the easy movement and unhindered action. Steve set his teeth and forced his lungs to breathe steady, but his muscles protested and shook. He managed a few steps before he had to pause, and Bruce was by his side, holding him up.

"I've locked the door, but they're going to know something's up as soon as they get here," Bruce said.

Steve nodded and straightened. The jostling woke Blaine, who cried out in pain. Steve held him to his chest as he moved toward the door. Bruce retrieved the staff weapons and took a last glance at the computer before joining them. He pressed a sequence of buttons on the keypad and the door slid open. Bruce scanned the hallway.

Steve slumped against the wall by the door, legs bending under their own volition. He cradled Blaine closer when the movement elicited an agonized whimper.

"We don't have much time," Bruce insisted.

Steve looked up at Bruce, but Blaine's fingers clumsily grasping at his shirt recaptured his attention. He reached for Blaine's fingers and stilled them against his chest.

"I'm sorry, love," Blaine murmured, eyes blinking sluggishly.

"No, it's fine," Steve soothed. "Blaine, you're going to be fine," he added shakily.

"You have to go," Blaine protested, pushing feebly against Steve's hold. "Bruce is waiting for you."

"Us," Steve clarified. "He's waiting for us. Come on."

Steve repositioned his arms back under and around Blaine and struggled to stand. When Blaine cried out again, Steve stopped, pressing his lips to Blaine's forehead in apology.

"Hurts," Blaine breathed out, defeated and so tired. Tears slipped down his cheeks.

"I know. We'll get out of here," Steve said. When Blaine's eyes drooped and his grasp on Steve's shirt slipped, Steve pressed his lips to Blaine's temple. "You promised," Steve whispered, eyes closing against the dampness there.

"I can't," Blaine said softly.

"Steve," Bruce prompted gently.

"Go," Blaine urged weakly.

With a resigned sigh and still tremulous arms, Steve shifted Blaine to the floor.

"I'll be back for you," Steve asserted with a last tender kiss to Blaine's lips.

"I know," Blaine breathed out, no trace of doubt. Steve took another last look at Blaine before he pushed himself up. He took the weapon Bruce offered him and together, they ducked out of the lab. Moments later, aliens were at the door, firing at the metal when it refused to slide open.

Blaine lay on the floor just inside, lost in the haze of pain as unconsciousness swept over him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, you've looked better."

Tony and Thor stayed silent as they flew toward the ship, aiming for the hatch. Thor extended his arm above them, hammer ready, and they burst through the door without pausing. Tony stopped short as soon as they passed through the now torn apart hatch and lowered them to the floor.

"I would really like to take a closer look at that thing," Tony tossed out. Thor gave him a stern look before striding to the door. "So, that's a no?" Tony asked innocently.

He followed Thor as they exited the room, immediately coming under fire. They ducked back through the doorway and Tony fired a wide spread into the corridor. Shouts echoed down the hallway and Thor chanced a glance around. Alarms blared.

"They have us surrounded," Thor informed.

"Of course they do," Tony said with a roll of his eyes. "You take left, I got the right."

Thor nodded and ran back out into the fray. Blasts flew past them as they ducked, singeing the walls and floor. Tony's weapons proved useless against the armor, but he managed to down a few with targeted shots to an unprotected calf or the gap between breastplate and helmet. Thor had better luck, swinging hammer felling aliens all around him. He deftly evaded the weapons fire, knocking the long staffs from hands before dealing the fatal blows.

When the mass of twenty odd aliens was significantly thinned, Tony asked, "Which way, Jarvis?"

"To your right, sir. I show two human life signs heading your way. However, there are also at least another twenty aliens between."

"Lead the way," Thor said, breath labored as he recovered from knocking two aliens to the floor.

"Oh, I get to be in the front?" Tony snarked.

"I have proven to be better at bringing up the rear," Thor stated.

"What does that mean?" Tony asked.

"It means that your metal suit allows you to speak with your computer to discern the path, and that I am better at following directions."

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but closed it. After a beat, he said, "I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"You may take it however you wish," Thor offered simply. "Shall we go?"

"Yeah," Tony agreed, turning and jogging down the corridor. "Damn demigod," he muttered.

Jarvis led them to a juncture and instructed them to the left. Tony and Thor came upon the other group of aliens, and fortunately, from behind. They were able to down several of them before the others realized what was happening. The remaining aliens turned their attention from firing down the hallway, and surrounded the two.

Thor swung his hammer wide, injuring several and knocking one to the floor. An alien latched onto his arm, and Thor threw him off. He landed several feet away, but remained conscious, and struggled upright. Thor flung his hammer, this time sending the alien down the hallway and into a wall, where he slumped. Others were quick to replace the knocked out alien.

The close proximity had Tony abandoning his weapons to grab at the aliens and toss them to the ground. But even with the added strength of the suit, the aliens were only deterred for a few moments. Tony backed up, firing again as he went.

"These guys seem tougher to you?" Tony quipped breathlessly. He shot at an approaching alien with both hands, simultaneously disarming and crippling him. The alien shouted angrily as he dropped to his knees. Tony shot him again.

"They do appear quite persistent."

A blast to the suit pushed Tony hard and back to the wall, helmet thudding loudly. Another blast kept him from regaining his stance, and two menacing aliens appeared in front of him. A quick glance to his right revealed Thor, cradling his hand across his abdomen and haphazardly swinging his hammer at the approaching aliens.

Tony shoved off one of the aliens, but the other grabbed hold of him and flung him back against the wall. Stumbling upright, he took a couple deep breaths before the alien was slamming him against the wall. Tony could barely hold onto the massive armor covered shoulders, and the suit's strength matched that of the alien crushing him against the wall. Pain flared in his arm, where the alien was crushing the suit.

Weapons fire sounded again, and suddenly, the alien loosened his hold and collapsed, the shot to his lower back where the armor cut short still smoking. Tony shook his arm out and looked around. Bruce met his gaze from down the hall, where he was crouched and partially hidden at the far juncture. Bruce shot again, this time hitting the alien struggling with Thor. Adrenaline surging, Tony fired rapidly at the remaining aliens, distracting them so Bruce and Thor could deal the final blows.

When no aliens remained standing, Bruce stood. Thor and Tony stepped over the slumped bodies.

"Fancy seeing you here," Tony quipped.

Bruce huffed and turned, holding a hand out. Steve grabbed it and Bruce hauled him up onto shaky legs. Steve braced himself with a palm against the wall. Any color Steve had regained was lost, his face ashen and tense, his breathing ragged, and his eyes dull.

"Well, you've looked better," Tony said bluntly.

"So it is true," Thor said. "You have lost your strength."

Steve closed his eyes and leant back against the wall, hunched and hand pressed to his heaving chest.

"And the green guy?" Tony asked. Bruce nodded.

"Sir, I detect several more aliens approaching," Jarvis spoke up.

"How many?"

"A dozen approximately 200 feet to your right, and another ten from the hallway in front of you."

Tony reached for Steve's arm and said, "Let's get you to the shuttle."

"No," Steve breathed out, wincing at the way his lungs ached with the movement. "Blaine."

"We'll get him later," Tony assured.

"No," Steve protested. "He's--," Steve paused to take in more shallow breaths, "he's--."

"He's been injured," Bruce supplied, squeezing Steve's shoulder. "He doesn't have much time."

"Jarvis, find me Blaine."

"The only other human life sign is in a locked room. Vitals are weak, but he is alive. There are numerous aliens surrounding the area."

"Okay."

"And the others are still approaching," Jarvis reminded.

"Okay," Tony repeated. "We're going to get back to the shuttle."

Steve looked to argue, but Tony held a hand up. "Thor and I will come back for small fry." His tone turned uncharacteristically kind, "You're in no shape to stay in this fight, Cap."

Steve nodded reluctantly, and Bruce pulled his arm over his shoulder. With Tony in the lead and Thor bringing up the rear, they made their way back to the cargo room and the now gaping hatch.

Tony took Steve and Bruce, one at a time, out of the hatch and to the shuttle, hovering a few meters below the ship. Standing by the bay door, Natasha took one look at Steve and immediately helped him to the bench. Steve made no protest when she slipped the oxygen mask over his face, nor when she started checking his vitals. When Tony returned with Bruce, Steve grabbed his arm, fingers clumsy and weak.

"Pint size just can't stay out of trouble, can he?" Tony joked before Steve could say anything. Steve smiled sadly and let go. "Be back soon," Tony said as he turned and took off.

Steve slumped back, eyelids drooping. Bruce pulled out another med kit and started an I.V. Steve barely noticed the needle prick, the ache in his muscles and the pain in his chest so long forgotten that they seemed more severe than before. If not for Blaine, he would give into the pull of sleep, the painlessness of unconsciousness. Instead, he struggled to stay awake, blinking slowly as Bruce and Natasha bustled around him.

When Natasha knelt on the bench beside him, tugging a blanket around his shoulders and pressing a warm cloth to his forehead, Steve remembered. He remembered days and nights spent in bed, his mother tucking the blankets around him and fussing when he coughed and wheezed. And when Natasha tipped his head to rest on her shoulder, he remembered that too--remembered his mother sitting with him in bed, holding him up against her shoulder and chest so he could breathe easier as he slept fitfully. He remembered Blaine--so different compared to him, and yet it was so easy for Steve to tuck his head against Blaine's shoulder and neck as they lay in bed. How Steve would fall asleep curled around the smaller man, to Blaine's fingers sliding through his hair and a warm arm pulling him in close.

*

"Sir, I count 60 more aliens heading this way."

Tony shoved an alien off and into another, making them stumble back. He aimed the staff weapon Bruce had given him and fired at the dozen aliens still standing. Thor continued hammering at the aliens to his left. They were still several corridors away from the medical lab.

"Stark," Clint's voice crackled through the comm. "Looks like the ship's back on course. And they sent another electrical wave across the hull. We're keeping our distance."

"Time?" Tony asked, still shooting with both the staff and the suit. Thor flung his hammer in an arc, knocking down several aliens before slamming back into his hand.

"No idea. My guess is not a lot," Clint replied.

"Power levels at 20%," Jarvis added.

"Naturally," Tony said sarcastically. "Jarvis, how's Blaine doing?"

"His vitals are weakening. The aliens have breached the room."

"Assessment?"

"I advise retreating."

"Yep," Tony agreed. He stepped back, though he kept firing at the oncoming aliens. Thor followed his lead, no longer advancing but still holding the enemy at bay. "Jarvis, tap into Project X-treme."

"Sir, we are in the preliminary experimental phases."

"Don't care. Pepper?"

"It's untested on humans," Pepper answered hesitantly.

"No time like the present."

"We can't--," Pepper protested.

Tony cut in, "You got another idea?"

"It's Blaine," Pepper reasoned.

"Exactly."

"We'll set it up," Pepper replied after a beat.

"Good," Tony said. He aimed the last of his weapons' energy at a towering alien and followed up with a blast from the staff. The alien toppled. "Thor," he called out over the alarms and the weapons fire, "time to go."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I kept my promise."

Tony and Thor landed hard, jostling the shuttle. Clint spared a glance back before he pressed the button to raise the ramp and steered the shuttle away.

"Blaine," Steve said, voice muffled by the breathing mask and disoriented from his brief respite. He yanked the plastic from his face when he realized Blaine was not with them. He stood, steadying himself by grabbing onto the holds on the bulkhead. "Where is he?"

"We were greatly outnumbered," Thor answered somberly. Natasha and Bruce stood as Steve advanced on Tony. Tony held a hand up.

"Pepper, you ready?" he asked into his comm.

"Where is he?" Steve asked again, voice strained and face tense. The air still wheezed in and out of his lungs and he coughed with the effort.

"The ship's changing course," Clint pointed out.

"Pepper?"

"Not now," Pepper ordered, her sternness clear in the confines of Tony's helmet.

"Actually, now would be good."

"You, not now," Pepper clarified bluntly.

Tony wisely stayed silent after that, glad for the suit's helmet shielding his worried countenance as he looked at the others.

"Ship's heading for space," Clint informed somberly.

"Tony," Steve said, tone pleading, and for the first time, Tony saw fear in his eyes. He also didn't miss the other man's uncharacteristic use of his first name. Natasha squeezed Steve's arm gently. Several tense moments passed.

"We got him," Pepper breathed out. "But he--. Tony--."

"What's wrong?" Tony asked slowly, watching the panic pass over Steve's face.

"I sent him directly to medical. He's in cardiac arrest."

"What?" Steve prompted nervously when Tony didn't speak right away.

"Keep me posted," he instructed to Pepper. "We'll be down there as soon as we can," Tony added. "Clint?"

Clint nodded from his seat, not even looking back. He veered the shuttle toward Stark Tower.

*

Steve refused to sit after Tony explained what happened, the words a jumble as Tony detailed how he and Jarvis had been using the arc reactor's energy source to create and manipulate micro wormholes for long-distance travel. All he had heard was Blaine, Stark Tower, and cardiac arrest.

So, much to Bruce's protests, Steve leaned heavily on the back of Natasha's chair, watching the sky streak by and the New York City buildings loom larger and larger in the window. Bruce spoke quietly to Pepper and then a doctor, passing what information he could about how they had found Blaine. Fortunately, only a few minutes passed before they were approaching the distinctive column of Stark Tower.

Tony tapped on Steve's shoulder and pointed a thumb back at the opening door when Steve looked at him.

"Come on, Cap," Tony said kindly as he lifted Steve's arm and ducked his shoulders under. Steve went willingly, Tony's tight hold compensating for Steve's too tired body. Bruce tucked the I.V. tube and saline bag between them.

The shuttle turned, Stark Tower coming into view as the ramp lowered. They flew out and Tony aimed for the balcony a few floors below the small roof. As soon as they landed, the shuttle headed back toward the alien ship and Pepper approached. Steve's legs faltered under him as Tony helped keep his balance. She gave Steve a once over--taking in the sag of his body, the bruises on his arms, and ragged and wheezy breathing--and took the saline bag from Tony before ushering them both inside, Tony awkwardly stooping to support Steve.

Two medics waited by the elevator with kits and a transport bed. Steve balked at the equipment, pulling away when Tony attempted to help him onto the bed.

"They're going to take you straight to see Blaine," Pepper said, making sure to look at the medics so they were clear on her instructions. "He's still with the surgeons," she supplied, looking back at a still reluctant Steve. "You can barely walk," she reasoned.

"I'd listen to her if I were you, Cap," Tony added, pulling off his helmet. He stepped back and the rest of the suit began to split into smaller components and separate from Tony's body.

"You should take your own advice," Steve said, hint of a smile on his lips. He let the medics help him onto the bed, propped up on one side so he was only leaning back slightly. Pepper slipped the saline bag onto a hook on the bed's frame.

"Glad to see you're still you," Tony shot back.

Steve's retort was lost as the oxygen mask descended over his nose and mouth. The two medical personnel wheeled the bed into the elevator, Pepper and a now-unsuited Tony crowding in.

Steve tipped his head back and closed his eyes, trying to breathe steadily. The cool, clean stream of air felt stronger than the one on the shuttle, and soothed his aching lungs. They still clenched angrily when he tried to breathe too deeply, so he kept his breathing shallow. His limbs still felt heavy and clumsy in their fatigue, and the low-grade nausea that had plagued him since he woke up in the alien ship's medical lab gripped his empty stomach. He swallowed thickly. And he was cold. For the first time in a very long time, he felt goose bumps as the air-conditioned air swept over him when the elevator doors opened. He shivered and tensed, his muscles shaking and protesting the small bit of exertion.

A blanket landed haphazardly over his legs and Steve blinked. Pepper strode alongside the bed, tugging the blanket more fully over him.

Steve's fingers grasped the mask loosely away from his mouth and said, "Thank you." It wasn't just for the blanket. Pepper looked at him and smiled bracingly.

She tapped his fingers and gently ordered, "Put that back on," before helping him reposition the mask correctly and tugging the blanket over his abdomen just as they reached the medical ward.

*

"The alien ship is knocking my fighters out by the squadron," Fury said.

Clint pressed the comm and said, "We're on our way back. Bring them down from the inside."

"Do what you can," Fury ordered.

Clint brought the ship back under the destroyed hatch, opened the bay door, and set the shuttle to autopilot.

Natasha looked back at Thor as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "You ready for round two?"

"Perhaps you would like to join me this time?" Thor asked as he gripped his hammer.

"You better believe it," Clint answered, following Natasha to standing. He strode to the back of the shuttle and grabbed up a grapple and rope. Handing it to Thor, he said, "Care to give us a hand?"

Thor spun his hammer and flung it at the hatch, keeping a tight hold on it as it went. He easily cleared the hatch and the rope fell into view soon after. Clint hooked the other end of the rope to the shuttle, letting the thick cord hang loosely. "Shall we?" he asked Natasha and Bruce.

*

True to Pepper's words, the medics wheeled Steve into the observation room and positioned the bed in front of the window. Pepper stayed by his side while Tony remained behind them. Steve sat up, trying to see Blaine under the sheets and behind all the people hastening about. He caught a glimpse of Blaine's curls and let out a breath.

"What--," Steve started to ask as he pulled off the mask again. He trailed off, not knowing where to start. He kept watching. A nurse entered with a small, wheeled cart, and handed Pepper a tablet. Pepper said a quiet thank you, and the nurse nodded before checking the I.V. in Steve's arm.

"He was in arrest when they got him. Took two minutes to revive," Pepper spoke up, looking at the tablet. "They're re-inflating a collapsed lung now, reconstructing a couple ribs, patching up his liver and right lung."

"The weapon's blast shattered the ribs on impact but seared right through the flesh so blood loss was minimal," Tony recounted, having come up behind Pepper to see the tablet.

"But they're transfusing him as soon as he's out of surgery because his blood count is extremely low," Pepper added.

"They didn't try to stop the bleeding," Steve commented slowly, quietly, a subtle rumble of anger despite his still shallow breaths. "They bled him out even though he was dying." His eyes remained on the operating room.

Pepper and Tony shared a look but did not speak.

The nurse checked Steve's vitals, slipping a monitor over a finger and a blood pressure cuff up his arm. She checked his temperature and pulse. She checked the rashes and bruises, pressed sterile q-tips to the injection sites that she slotted into tubes and capped, and pressed a stethoscope to Steve's chest and back.

"I'll be back," she said, patting Steve on the shoulder to let him know she was done. He leaned back against the bed, but still, his gaze stayed steady on the surgery.

*

"How many?" Natasha asked loudly over weapons' fire and angry cries.

"Little over 100," Bruce answered, scanning the monitor. He flinched and ducked as a blast hit the wall next to him.

"Sorry, doc," Clint said before taking out the alien who had fired the shot. He slipped back behind a column of equipment to retrieve another arrow from his sheath, smoothly and swiftly moving back into view and sending his arrow into another alien's exposed neck.

"I am enjoying these odds," Thor commented. Natasha huffed.

Thor hammered at several aliens just on the other side of the open engineering door, keeping them at bay. Natasha rapidly fired a staff weapon she had acquired, from the first alien she encountered, at another group of oncoming aliens.

"How's that propulsion disabling going?" Natasha asked, jabbing the end of the staff weapon into the abdomen of a lunging alien. Clint shot him with an arrow before the alien could get back up.

"Almost," Bruce replied, fingers pressing at the symbols appearing on the screen. "There," he added a moment later.

The engine groaned and the pulsing light faltered. It dimmed with a whine, the mechanical hum quieting. Another alarm sounded through the ship, just as discordant as the others already blaring through the rooms and corridors.

Thor knocked another two aliens aside as Clint grabbed a fallen staff weapon and, with Natasha's aid, downed the rest of the aliens in engineering.

*

The nurse returned with her hands full of supplies. She switched out Steve's near empty saline bag for a new one, attached a nebulizer to the oxygen tank, cleaned and dressed the injection sites, disinfected the rashes and applied an antibiotic ointment.

Steve winced at the sting of the alcohol as the nurse worked, but his breathing came easier as the drugs entered his system through the mask. As the ache in his chest eased, and the pain and discomfort of his rashes lessened, his vision unfocused and his eyelids drooped. He struggled against the fatigue, against his body, and rubbed at his eyes to keep them clear. 

Pepper prodded Tony to get checked out--having seen the reports from Fury's medical staff. When Tony finally left, Pepper laid her hand over Steve's.

"He's not going to let go," she said with a squeeze of her fingers.

Steve was quiet for a moment before he pulled the mask away and replied, "Maybe he should."

"Are you?" Pepper asked.

Steve cast her a brief glance, filled with sadness, before returning his attention to Blaine.

"No," he answered quietly but determinedly.

"Good," Pepper said, setting the mask back in place, "because I already have my dress for the wedding."

Steve turned his palm up under Pepper's hand and squeezed back.

*

"The ship is losing altitude and maneuverability," Fury informed over the comm.

"That would be Dr. Banner's doing," Natasha relayed, tossing a smirk at Bruce before returning her attention forward as she stepped over slumped bodies. Clint held his bow and arrow ready as they crept through the corridor. Thor trailed behind them, making sure no one came at them from behind as they moved away from the engineering area.

"Good job. Anything you can do about its weapons?" Fury asked.

"Not from here," Bruce answered. "We're on our way to the bridge."

They slowed at a junction, and Clint peered around the corner. He looked back with an amused look.

“Looks like getting to the bridge might take some time,” Clint said as the pounding of footsteps grew louder.

With that, he turned back to the hallway and shot his arrow into the mob of aliens coming toward them. Natasha crouched next to him and fired the staff weapon and Bruce positioned himself against the wall to provide cover.

*

Blaine's surgery finished without further complication, and he was moved to an isolation room. There was no room for another bed, but Steve insisted on being with him when he realized the medics were wheeling him to another room. With a firm hand to Steve's arm to keep him on his own bed, Pepper asked the staff to help her move the I.V. and oxygen tank with Steve. Minutes later, trailing a rolling rack of equipment behind them, Pepper situated Steve in an armchair next to Blaine.

Steve stayed there silently, alternately staring at the monitor displaying Blaine's vitals and the tubes running into his arms and the wires connecting him to monitors. Sleep pulled him under every so often, but he jolted awake after only a few minutes.

*

A sudden burst of light and heat filled the corridor behind the aliens. Clint and Bruce shielded their eyes as Thor and Natasha ducked back down their hallway. A moment later, red streaked by, only to abruptly stop and land just past the juncture. Tony stepped back into view.

“Did I miss all the fun?”

Natasha smirked as Clint ventured back out to retrieve his arrows.

“How’s Blaine?” Bruce asked.

“Just finished surgery,” Tony answered seriously. A moment later, his tone turned teasing, “Were you headed somewhere?”

“Might not be necessary,” Fury commented. “The ship’s stopped firing. And it’s changing course. You should get out of there.”

Without a word, they moved down the hallway, over and around fallen aliens. Tony grabbed a staff weapon and they made their way down the long corridors and through levels, fending off aliens as they made their retreat.

*

Tony was the first to arrive back at Stark Tower, slipping into Blaine’s room and talking quietly to Pepper, who’d taken up a chair near the door and had been working via her tablet. Bruce, Natasha, and Clint arrived soon after. Thor had taken off for his home world, wanting to share the news of the aliens and send a warning to his people. Bruce waved off Pepper's concern, saying he was on the way to get checked out but wanted to see Blaine's progress. Pepper pressed a few buttons on the tablet and handed it over, information filling the screen as a video feed played in a small window in one corner and Blaine's current vitals updated every few seconds in another corner of the screen.

Steve took it all in, but kept his focus on Blaine--still sickly pale and so still, breathing slow, and eyes unmoving under dark eyelids. He listened as Natasha relayed that the alien ship had destroyed several squadrons of fighters with their blast weapons and targeted electrical pulses, how they disabled the ship’s propulsion, and that the ship eventually retreated. Their cloak never re-engaged.

The nurses checked on Blaine, and Steve, every hour. The nebulizer treatment completed and Steve was allowed to take the oxygen mask off. They kept the I.V. in. The food they brought stayed untouched. Blaine remained unconscious.

The Avengers hovered, Bruce finally leaving to get checked on while Clint and Natasha stood silent and guarding just outside the door. Tony took up another chair on the other side of Blaine, his usual fidgetiness stifled as he watched Steve watch Blaine. Pepper half-heartedly prodded Steve to eat or go next door to sleep, but each time, he refused.

*

By morning, Steve ate something when Pepper brought a tray of food in with her. Clint and Natasha took their leave then, sharing quiet words with Pepper. Bruce took up Tony’s position across from Steve. And while Pepper, Tony, and Bruce all carried tablets to work on, and Clint and Natasha kept to themselves, Steve and Blaine were never without at least two of them nearby throughout the day and night.

Steve fell asleep before dinner that first day, only waking when the nurse slipped a blood pressure cuff over his arm to re-check his vitals. The lighting was dimmed, indicating evening. A blanket was tucked around him and the footstool of the chair had been lifted.

“Hey, there,” the nurse said kindly as Steve blinked and tipped his head to look at Blaine. “He’s still sleeping,” she added with an encouraging smile. She finished up and patted his arm encouragingly before leaving with her small cart. Steve shifted, grimacing as his body protested both the uncomfortable position and the movement.

“You should go lie down, get more than three hours of sleep,” Bruce advised gently from his seat.

“I’m fine,” Steve dismissed, casting Bruce a quick look before turning back to Blaine. “How long before he wakes up?”

“Any time now.”

“It’s not good that he hasn’t woken yet,” Steve stated more than asked.

“It’s neither good nor bad right now,” Bruce said honestly. “His brain activity tested normal and he’s breathing on his own. As long as he doesn’t worsen, sleep can help the body recover.”

*

Another night and day passed, Steve fighting the pull of sleep by standing or pacing the small space beside Blaine’s bed. Pepper managed a little lunch into him, but the still-present nausea and preoccupation kept his appetite at bay. The room was silent save the steady beeping, indicating Blaine’s heartbeat.

When Bruce slipped out of the room after Steve left the dinner tray untouched, claiming a refill on his coffee, Steve sat down heavily on the armchair. He leaned close to the bed, sliding his hand under Blaine’s and enveloping the cool, limp fingers. He lifted their hands and pressed his lips to the center of Blaine’s hand, closing his eyes. 

Steve wanted to say something, to tell Blaine he loved him, to be mad at him for taking such a risk in following them in the first place, to tell him how proud he was of his bravery, but mostly to tell Blaine to come back to him. But no words came, just Steve’s uneven breathing that he tried to steady. He kissed Blaine’s hand again and rested his cheek there, soothing his other palm over Blaine’s forearm. He stayed like that, eyes closed, for some time. Bruce had returned, but quietly departed as soon as he’d seen the tenderness in Steve’s caress, and sat in a chair outside the door, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

The beeping rhythm stuttered, and Steve’s head lifted. He blinked at the screen, vision clearing too slowly as he stared at the green line moving up and down and leveling out over and over again. The beeping stuttered again and Steve saw the pattern spike unevenly.

“Blaine?” Steve asked hesitantly, breathlessly. He tightened his grip on Blaine’s hand and ventured to touch Blaine’s cheek with his other. When Blaine’s head moved, Steve slid his fingers over his temple and a thumb across his cheek. Blaine’s head tipped again, toward the touch.

“Steve,” Blaine breathed out, word mumbled and voice barely there. He blinked, but his eyelids fell closed again.

“Blaine,” Steve repeated, equal parts pleading and relief. Steve swiped his thumb gently across Blaine’s cheek again. Blaine blinked again, this time more successfully. His unfocused and tired eyes landed on Steve’s.

“I kept my promise,” Blaine murmured.

“You did,” Steve affirmed, pressing a kiss to Blaine’s forehead. Blaine sighed, and Steve kissed his cheek. Heavy eyelids won again and Blaine’s head lulled back onto the pillow. But Steve wasn’t worried, because Blaine’s fingers twitched in his hold and squeezed back when Steve pressed his lips to his knuckles.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't want to hurt you."

Blaine woke up again in the middle of the night, dreams filled with soft music, smooth fabrics, stars, and strong arms around him lingering at the edge of consciousness. He took a slow breath and let it out, his lungs feeling tight and a dull pain thrumming through his abdomen. He blinked, eyelids sluggish and vision blurry. Blinking some more helped.

He tried to tip his head up, but it felt too heavy and his body uncooperative. Instead, he turned his head, gray metal bars coming into his view. He stared at them for a long moment, not quite comprehending what they were. But then, he looked down and saw Steve--head cushioned awkwardly on the crook of his elbow barely on the edge of the bed, and turned away from him, hair askew. He noticed the warmth around his hand and wrist, and knew immediately that it was Steve's long fingers holding onto him. Blaine wiggled his fingers, squeezing weakly at Steve's thumb. Steve squeezed back, warm breath sighing out of him and ghosting over Blaine's forearm.

"Good to see you awake. Can I get you anything?" a voice asked quietly. Blaine tipped his head, blinking at the source of the question. Bruce's face swam into focus, face lined with concern and fatigue. Panic had Blaine blinking again, trying to clear the haze of sleep, and he lifted his unoccupied hand clumsily. Bruce grabbed it quickly with both of his, leaning closer.

"You're okay," Bruce soothed.

"Ship?" Blaine mumbled around his sluggish tongue.

"The ship's gone. We're at Stark Tower."

"Steve?" Blaine asked, voice gaining strength. Bruce shot the sleeping Steve a wry expression.

"He's well enough. Just tired. Tried to stay up the whole time you were out."

"How long?"

"Almost two days."

"Hero," Blaine huffed out, though his eyes lingered on Steve's head.

"Yeah," Bruce chuckled as he settled Blaine's arm back at his side. He retrieved a small cup with a straw, guiding it to Blaine's lips. "Small sips," he directed.

Blaine did as instructed, the tepid water both soothing and revitalizing.

"Hulk?" he asked, voice clear even though his brain still felt disjointed.

"Still absent. We're running tests."

Bruce offered the straw to Blaine again, who took two slightly bigger sips.

When Bruce set the cup back on the table, he suggested, "Sleep. Now that the doctor knows you're awake, no doubt they will want you up bright and early for a follow-up CT scan."

Blaine nodded as best he could, eyelids already closing.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"What for?"

"For not letting him stay with me on the ship," Blaine managed before sleep pulled him under again.

Bruce brushed the hair from Blaine's forehead and breathed out a somber, "Yeah."

*

Blaine stayed in the medical ward for several days, the nurses closely monitoring his wound for any signs of internal bleeding or infection. They took daily blood samples and redressed his injury.

Steve's I.V. came out after Blaine had been awake for an hour and they'd shared a lunch of soup and juice. He'd given blood samples just as often as Blaine, per Bruce's orders. Steve stayed for much of the time, only leaving to shower and change every morning when Pepper came by. He refused his own bed, and his own room, only conceding to recline the armchair when Blaine threatened to get up and go in search of a bed.

Two days after Blaine woke, the doctor authorized solid foods and short trips to the bathroom and down the hall. Relieved, Blaine had tossed the blanket off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The resulting stretch and pain in his abdomen had him hunched over, eyes closed and breathing deliberate. Steve was by Blaine's side immediately, arms itching to grab Blaine up and carry him. But his strength hadn't returned. So, Steve rubbed his back until Blaine steadied his breathing. With a tight grip to Steve's arm, Blaine slid off the bed onto trembling legs. Together, they made their way to the nurse's station, where Blaine chatted with the nurses and promised a song for them when he was fully recovered. Natasha and Clint were by the door when they returned, and they both gave Blaine rare smiles.

The days passed easier after that, Blaine getting stronger and Steve keeping less of an eye on him. They joked about Steve being "normal" again, and Blaine couldn't stifle his laughter when Steve sneezed at the flowers Pepper brought. Steve took the ribbing good-naturedly.

Blaine stayed another four days, until he was eating regularly, walking the entirety of the medical ward, and able to keep down the oral pain killers. Dr. Warren released him under the condition he stayed in Stark Tower for another week, his wound still needing daily check-ups and redressing. Blaine agreed readily, wanting nothing more than to sink into bed upstairs in the quiet of Steve's apartment, with Steve by his side.

*

“Steve?” Blaine asked sleepily, opening his eyes to the dimly lit room.

“What do you need?” Steve inquired, up from his chair set next to the bed.

Blaine looked at Steve’s concerned expression, stretched his hand out on the mattress palm up, and quietly said, “You.”

Steve sat on the edge of the bed and took Blaine’s hand, smile ghosting his lips.

“Come sleep with me,” Blaine murmured. He tugged on Steve’s hand, but Steve resisted.

“Go back to sleep,” Steve said with a chuckle.

“With you,” Blaine protested.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Steve revealed after a beat. Blaine squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Won’t,” Blaine said with a lazy shake of his head. “Sleep better with you,” Blaine pouted.

Steve looked at Blaine, hair mussed and bandages still wrapped around his torso, eyes barely open and lips in an exaggerated pout. Steve huffed a laugh and conceded, reaching over to turn off the lamp.

The first night back in Steve’s bed, Blaine had taken his pain medication and promptly fallen asleep. He awoke to Steve bringing him breakfast in bed. The second, Steve had excused himself, saying he needed to talk to Bruce. Blaine had fallen asleep soon after, awakening in the early morning to Steve sleeping in the living room armchair now beside the bed. So tonight, when Steve finally slid under the covers, Blaine maneuvered Steve’s arm under his neck and shoulders and settled Steve’s other arm over his chest, clear of the bandages. Steve curled around Blaine’s uninjured side, kissing Blaine’s temple when Blaine sighed contentedly. Blaine tipped his head up and kissed Steve back lightly, wrapping his fingers around Steve’s arm across his chest.

The position wasn’t that comfortable, but both fell asleep to the sound of each other breathing. And they slept well into the morning, still wrapped around each other.

*

"I need to get to class," Blaine said, lifting his head from Steve’s shoulder. When Steve did not loosen his arms from around Blaine’s back, he leaned up and kissed him, soft and tender, smiling as he pulled away. "I'm okay."

"You should be resting."

Blaine soothed his palms over Steve's arms.

"Bruce and Dr. Warren both cleared me. I've already been gone three weeks. I can't miss anymore class if I want to graduate this spring."

"We still don't know what they did to you."

"Or you," Blaine countered with a quirk of an eyebrow.

"Yes, but I'm fine."

"Oh, I know," Blaine smirked, squeezing Steve's biceps teasingly. After being under Bruce’s scrutiny for several days, he confirmed that despite not having the health and regenerative powers from the serum, Steve maintained the body and muscle mass. After resting and eating regular meals, Steve still found it difficult to get through the day with this new contradictory body. So when Blaine was well enough, they had spent a little time each day in Steve’s personal gym—Blaine working with a physical therapist so as not to damage his healing injury and Steve focusing on aerobic activity to strengthen his heart and lungs.

"Blaine," Steve chastised, trying to keep the smile from his lips.

Blaine pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, smiling against skin until Steve turned his head and kissed him back.

"I'm going to stop by my place beforehand. I'll be back for dinner."

Steve gave him a final squeeze around the waist before letting go and walking Blaine to the door. He handed Blaine his bag, receiving a wide smile. With a wave, Blaine headed down the hallway. Steve watched him until he was out of sight.

*

Blaine turned before the woman cried out, was already changing course when she fell to the ground with a pained sound. He winced at the pain, acute and clear on her tight expression. The other pedestrians around her faltered and stepped around her. It wasn't until Blaine knelt down beside her that another woman paused and pulled her phone from her pocket.

"Are you okay?" he asked, hand hovering over her ankle.

"Stupid heels," she complained as she shifted her leg gingerly. The resulting hiss at the flare of pain had Blaine cringing.

"Do you think you can get up?" Blaine asked, offering his hands to help her. The woman shifted again, but had to close her eyes at the stab of pain. Blaine's fingers curled in, the nails biting into his skin.

"Should I call someone?" the young woman standing at their side questioned. Blaine looked up at her gratefully.

"No, I can do it. My office isn't far." She made to get up again, and Blaine found himself gritting his teeth along with her. He reached out and hoisted her up with arms under hers, feeling her body tense with another burst of pain.

When she was righted, left knee bent to keep the weight off her ankle, Blaine gripped her arms to keep her steady. She held onto him, carefully pressed down on her foot and testing the extent of the injury. Blaine sucked in a breath as his own ankle twinged with a sympathetic ache. The ache worsened when she took a tentative step, but the woman kept going until she was holding herself up on her own. Blaine lifted an eyebrow in question when she looked at him startled.

"It's not as bad as I thought." She let go of Blaine's forearms to resettle her bags on her shoulder. He dropped his hands. "Thank you," she said, looking at both Blaine and the other woman. "I think I'll be okay."

The young woman smiled and went on her way.

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked, still feeling the pain emanating from her.

"I think so. It was much better once I stood up. Weird, huh? Thank you, again."

"No problem. I'm glad it's not too bad," Blaine said with a shrug, forcing a smile to his lips.

"Wish there were more gentlemen like you around," the woman commented with a grateful smile. "Have a good day."

With a squeeze of his arm and another smile, she made her way down the sidewalk. Though she took her time, Blaine saw no evidence of a limp as the woman disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians. Shaking his head to rid himself of the questions, he turned back on his way. When he took a step, pain burst from his ankle and he stumbled, falling hard to his knees and catching himself with palms slammed onto the concrete. He took a shaky breath, blinking away the haze and steadying his suddenly racing heart. He got up, hopping a couple times until he found his balance with his left foot barely on the ground. His ankle now throbbed and his shoe felt too tight against the swollen ache. As he made his way to his apartment, limping and clenching his teeth at the stabbing pain, he shook his head at his clumsiness, how he must have turned his foot at an odd angle when he stood up, and at the coincidence of twisting the same foot as the woman he’d helped off the ground did.


End file.
